


Two Spencers

by RudexAndxNotxGinger



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Violence Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudexAndxNotxGinger/pseuds/RudexAndxNotxGinger
Summary: Derek meets a handsome young man while undercover, and it's not long before they're both under the covers. Derek is startled when it turns out that the guy is Dr. Spencer Reid, the new agent at the BAU. But this Spencer seems to be different than the man he'd just slept with, and seems to have no memory of meeting Derek before. What's going on? ...Read on to find out.





	1. The Boss

The club was loud. Really, really loud. It was usually loud, but this was just too much; the beat, the music, the noise of the dancers and drinkers. It was nauseating. But I couldn’t leave. I was undercover, posing as a bouncer, so I couldn’t just leave on account of the noise. I had only thirty minutes left on my shift but I was sure I’d be a deaf, useless undercover agent by then. I kept an eye on the people in the crowd, ignoring the obvious drug exchanges and the occasional not-so-obvious ones. My favorites were the Ecstasy purchases, transferred with a tongue-on-tongue kiss. There was one guy in particular that I loved to watch more than the others; I could watch him kiss all day. He was so forward and bold, and would often stay a little longer than needed, leaving the buyers with a high not only from the drug, but his erotic kisses. He had all of his customers hooked on his kiss.

It was because he kissed like he meant it; like he was genuinely passionate about that person. I figure he was imagining a particular someone each time he kissed a customer; someone whom he would like very much to fuck. That thought made me excited, and I tried to stop thinking about it. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from an exchange this guy was making with a young lady who was already out of her mind with alcohol. He kissed her with his eyes closed, and I instinctively closed mine for a second to imagine…

 

There was someone behind me; I sensed it before I felt it; a hand on my back. My eyes flew open and I whirled my head around to see a young man, no older than twenty-one, standing very close to me. He looked at me from under his mop of shaggy dirty-blond hair and said something I cannot hear. Although I didn’t hear him, I knew what he was saying just by the look in his eyes. He was trying to proposition me: for sex, or drugs, or both.

I shook my head, keeping my calm composure and not moving my arms from their position across my chest. I gave him a look that read, ‘Not interested, move along.’

And the kid seemed to catch my drift. He disappeared amongst the crowd of people; the sea of gyrating drunks. I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong.

 

 

Two nights later, I was back at the club again. I figured it would be my last night, since my month-long undercover stint turned up nothing on the gang I was supposed to investigate. I did manage to tip-off the local police on several small-time drug runners, but nothing on the scale our team was hoping for.

I stood my post again, really grateful that the music was not very loud. It was 70’s night, and since most of the dancers were in their forties, the DJ wisely kept the volume to a humane, safe level.

I felt someone touch my arm, and I immediately looked to see who it was. It was Shaggy Brown Hair, the one who propositioned me a few nights before. He had a predatory look on his face, even more intense than I remembered. He was tall, nearly deathly skinny, and had a handsome, clean-shaven face. Now that I took a better look at him, he seemed like a bit of a geek, not a drug dealer, and certainly not a pimp.  He was dressed in a pistachio green button up shirt and tight black skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination.

He leaned far, far into my personal space, and for some weird reason I let him. He used a cute, sly, and confident voice as he said, “I’ll bet you have a huge cock.”

I pulled back a little, in surprise, and I looked at that unwavering, smirking face. “Why? Because I’m black?”

“No. Because you’re bald.”

I felt confused, but I played along, intrigued.

“And you have giant hands; those two things combined are a guarantee that you’ve got a huge cock.”

“So what if I do?”

“I want you to take me home.” He stared up at me with the most alluring bedroom eyes; they were intense; confident; completely unwavering. It felt like he was looking into my soul.

I was taken aback by his forwardness, and equally surprised that I was tempted. Normally, vulgar forwardness would turn me off, especially if it was a stranger. But this guy pulled it off. He seemed so sure that I wouldn’t turn him down.

“What makes you so sure I’m gay?”

“You’re not. You’re definitely bisexual. I can tell by the way you look at the people here. Some guys turn you on, some girls. My guess is that you mostly sleep with girls, since you’re the dominant one and yet you get turned off by the effeminate guys. It’s hard for you to find the right guy to sleep with.”

He didn’t end his sentence with an ‘am I right?’ like any normal person would. I’ve had a few come-ons in my lifetime by someone who thinks they had me figured out from across the room. It’s an act, of course, and they usually use very vague descriptions that could apply to anyone. But this guy was different. He actually did have me figured out. It should have turned me off, maybe alarmed me a bit, but it didn’t. I was intrigued by this handsome guy who was shamelessly throwing himself at me.

“Your shift ends in ten minutes.” The guy said to me suggestively.

Before I could ask him how he knew so much about me, I felt his hand at my crotch. He palmed my half-hard cock through my jeans while never breaking eye contact with me. Beautiful green eyes pierced right into my soul, and I had to look away, in shame and out of self defense.

The hand was gone, but the smirk was still there. “I’ll be waiting outside for you, _Derek_.”

Before I could say anything, the young man was gone. My now full-on erection was snaking down the pant leg of my jeans, and I knew people would notice. I ducked into the employee room a few minutes early, but it wasn’t to calm down. It was to get my things and leave.

From then on my brain was shut down, because for the rest of the night I’d let my _other_ brain do all the thinking.

 

 

“Nice car.” The shaggy-haired guy complimented as he plopped down into the seat beside me.

“I don’t even know your name.” I marveled at the fact that I was really going home with a complete stranger, and that even my FBI instincts weren’t blaring objections.

“Spencer.”

“Okay, Spencer. Do you really want to go to my place? It’s a bit of a drive.”

“Is it less than an hour?”

“About fifty minutes.”

“That’s all the time I need.”

I looked a bit confused, I’m sure, because I was baffled. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I just went with it. This kid was either high on something I couldn’t identify, or he was just crazy. I pulled out of the packed parking lot carefully, and started the journey home.

Once I was on the interstate, which was nearly bumper-to-bumper with moving traffic, Spencer leaned over and cupped my crotch with a strong grip. I instantly began to harden; thinking about having sex with this guy was really turning me on.

Spencer undid my button on my jeans and opened up my fly. I gasped as he maneuvered my thickening cock out of my underwear and began to stroke gently.

I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but it was so difficult with the attention being bestowed on my cock.

“You’re so big.” Spencer’s eyes were full of lust as he stared at my erection while he stroked it so gently it was a mere tease.

“Is it as big as you thought?” My voice sounded strained from the internal battle going on inside my body. Half of me wanted to drive home to fuck him in my bed, and the other half of me wanted to pull off to the side of the road and fuck him in the backseat. (No pun intended.)

 

“Even bigger. God I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked by a cock so huge.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys.” I tried to joke, but Spencer reacted with a frown, and he drew his hand away from my cock. I whimpered. Yes, I really did.

“If you’re not going to take me seriously you might as well drop me off right here.”

I looked all around, seeing nothing but four huge lanes of north bound traffic. “Right here? On the road?”

“I would walk.” Spencer said in dead seriousness. This kid really was crazy, I decided.

“I’m sorry I offended you.”

Instead of acknowledging my apology, Spencer reached back to my cock, still hard as a rock, and began to stroke a little more intently. He knew just how to work me, bringing the skin all the way up to the tip and squeezing hard as he brought it all back down in one quick motion. He did it over and over, and a pool of aroused warmth was building in my lower abdomen. My vision blurred, I was so aroused. I stepped on the gas a little harder, passing cars to get into far right lane, and took the next exit, not even really knowing if it was the right one.

“I can’t wait until we get to your place.” Spencer looked like he was high on the anticipation; the arousal. I was too.

“I can’t wait either.”

 

The moment I parked my car, I set about the difficult task of getting my erection back into my pants. We took the long way, finding the entrance that connected the parking garage to the apartment building since I didn’t want to face the front doorman with the obvious log in my jeans.

I took Spencer, who was hanging on my arm, to my apartment on the fourth floor. We used the elevator, and I was genuinely surprised that he didn’t make a move on me in the forty seconds of privacy we had in there.

Perhaps he knew there was a camera.

I unlocked my apartment with a key, and Spencer went in after me. I took a few moments to remember my security password, my mind clouded with lust and thoughts of sex.

While I stood at my security system’s keypad, Spencer came up from behind me and began kissing my neck. I finally punched in the numbers, slowly and determinedly as to not mess up and set off the alarm. Once finished, I didn’t want to move. Spencer kept kissing my neck, and he’d snaked a hand in between my legs and toyed with my balls from behind. He kept doing it, rubbing between my legs, grabbing my balls through my jeans. My jacket slipped off my shoulders and onto the ground, and my fly came unzipped, all under the graceful movements of the ever so seductive Spencer. He kept grasping my balls while he worked my pants and underwear off from behind me. I slipped off my shoes and socks for him using my feet, not saying a word, not wanting to break this beautiful spell he’d put me under. I could think of nothing but how much I wanted his hands all over my body, how much I wanted him to suck my cock, and how much I wanted to fuck his ass.

He was working my shirt off, and I helped him a bit. It too, was discarded on the floor.

“God you’re so hot.” Spencer said in genuine awe. He was still fully clothed, and I wanted to complain about it, but I just couldn’t.

He placed wet kisses all down my back. He stood up straight and turned me around. I stood nose to nose with him, neither of us closing the gap for a few seconds. He kissed me first. It was so passionate, and determined; so good. It wasn’t hurried, or frantic like you see in the movies. It was slow and deep. He stuck his tongue between my lips and I whimpered my aroused approval. I sucked on his tongue lightly and added my own to the mix. He stroked the roof of my mouth with his deft, skilled tongue and it sent shivers down my spine. I tried to get my hands to unbutton his shirt, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Spencer helped with the buttons, refusing to break our kiss for an instant. He stepped out of his Converse slip-ons and opted to keep his socks on.

Spencer stopped our kiss just long enough to demand, “Touch me.”

I obeyed, while still kissing him senseless; while still being kissed senseless. I felt his hard cock through his impossibly tight jeans. By the feel of it, he was sure to be well-endowed as well. I unzipped the jeans and pushed them down, but it was Spencer who had to wriggle out of them, turning them inside-out like peeling off a wetsuit. It was then I realized that Spencer wasn’t wearing any underwear. As if I couldn’t get any more turned on…

Spencer stroked me hard and fast while we kissed, and I tried to do the same for him. My knees went weak. I could hardly think of anything but how good he was making me feel. My hands often stopped their ministrations to make room in my brain for all the pleasure and lust going through me like tidal waves.

Spencer seemed to get a little impatient with my inadequate stroking, and he put his own hand on his cock, while still working mine with the other. I do love an ambidextrous lover.

And true to my fantasizing, Spencer went down on his knees. Without any hesitation he took my cock into his mouth. He worked up and down the huge length, getting it into his mouth a little further with each bob of his head. I briefly wondered if he was going to attempt to fit all of me inside. I’d never had anyone fit my whole cock in their mouth; it was just too wide, and too long.

But Spencer was different. Once he’d gotten three quarters of the way in, I could feel his throat around the tip of my cock. Then he plunged all the way in, his nose to my trimmed pubic hair. I cried out in pleasure and arousal. No one had ever done what this guy had, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

He seemed to have no gag reflex, or had at least trained himself well. I didn’t feel, hear or see any sign of gagging while he worked his mouth up and down my length. He grabbed my balls and worked them in his hand, and I lost it.

“I’m gonna come.” I had to warn him. There was no way this guy wanted my semen down his throat; we hadn’t even asked each other if we were clean.

As I expected, Spencer pull off of my cock and looked up at me. What I didn’t expect was what he said. “No, you’re not. I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?”

“You can’t come until I do.”

I must have whimpered, but I couldn’t hear myself. My pulse was beating in my ears and all my body could think about was my impending orgasm.

“Let’s go to your bedroom.” He got up from his kneeling position and pulled me by the hand, leading me to my own bedroom.

Once there, Spencer kissed me. The kiss was different. It was tentative, thoughtful, and almost shy. Would I ever truly know this kid? He pulled away and looked into my eyes. “How many lovers have you fucked on this bed?”

“You asking me if I’m clean?”

“No, I want to know how many lovers you’ve had.”

“I’d have to think about that…” I tried to stall.

“Tell me.” Spencer demanded coolly.

“Fifteen. On this bed.” I wondered if this kid was jealous, but I could see no evidence of it on his face, or in his body language. The number was an approximation, but a close one.

“I’ll bet you think you’re a good lover.”

“No one’s complained.”

Spencer scoffed, and pulled away from my embrace. He lay on my bed, spread eagle and looking completely relaxed, save for the erection jutting straight out from his body. “Well then you’re going to find me _very_ interesting.”

“Oh? Do you like to complain?” I gave him an amused grin.

“Why don’t you just find out?”

I leapt onto the queen size bed with him, immediately putting my thigh between his legs and positioning my body above his.

“I want you to fuck me, Derek.”

“Aren’t you going to say please?”

“No.”

Then I kissed him. I kissed him soundly; I kissed the stupid smug smirk off his face. I kissed the bossiness right out of him. Or so I thought…

I grabbed the lubricant and a condom out of my nightstand and immediately returned to those swollen, sensuous lips. He was such a good kisser, I couldn’t remember ever kissing anyone that would match his skill. He knew just when to put his tongue in my mouth, just when to suck on my lip or bite it gently, or not so gently. I was completely under his spell, ready to worship every inch of his body. So I did.

I kissed his neck, his chest, his nipples, slowly working my way down his body to his large cock.

He wasn’t nearly as big as me, but he was certainly generously proportional. He wasn’t circumcised, which surprised me, but certainly didn’t turn me off. I’d never done a blowjob on an uncut cock, but I was looking forward to trying it. I took the whole tip, foreskin and all, and sucked on it sloppily, wetting it with lots of saliva.

“Put your tongue inside.” Spencer moaned instructions from further up the bed.

I obeyed, sticking my tongue inside the fold of smooth flesh. I tasted his salty precum, and I wrapped my large hand around his cock and milked it for more. I heard an approving groan from Spencer and tasted the steady stream of salty fluid on my tongue.

“I need more,” The first thing that sounded like a request rather than a demand.

 I obliged, pushing his entire cock right into my mouth, making sure to stimulate the underside with my tongue. Spencer gave little whimpers from time to time while I did my best to pleasure him, but he was certainly not hamming it up. His moans were genuine expressions of pleasure, and not embellished in any way. He seemed to be enjoying my efforts, his eyes were closed and his abdominal muscles tensed when I did something he particularly liked. I grabbed his balls and rolled them in my hand, playing with the loose flesh and tugging on it intermittently.

“Harder.” Spencer gasped once I’d started tugging.

I obeyed, trying to gauge if it would be too much. I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Harder!” His strained moans told me that he was in pain, and liking it. I’d never had sex with a masochist, but I think I was now.

I tugged a little harder while keeping suction on his cock. He keened and moaned, and I felt the first buck of his hips, driving the cock into my throat without permission. I coughed a little, but kept my teeth from touching the tender flesh inside my mouth. He did it again, and showed no sign of stopping. He fucked my mouth relentlessly, using surprisingly powerful hips thrusting up and down on the bed.

Low moans and gasps escaped his lips and eventually he said, “You like that, don’t you?”

I moaned a response, and he moaned from the feeling it made on his cock. He drove himself further down my throat, and I thought maybe I would suffocate. I decided it was time to pull back. I pulled the hard cock out of my mouth, being careful not to gag as it slid past my Adam’s apple.

Spencer moaned his complaint. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Just take it easy, okay?”

“You’ll never hear me say that to you. It’s hardly fair.”

I grabbed the lube and squirted a generous amount on my fingers. I felt between his ass cheeks and prodded the tiny hole hidden there.  I slid one finger inside, and Spencer moaned at the sensation. He was so tight and warm; I just couldn’t wait to get my cock inside.

“More.” Spencer begged. I added a second slicked finger inside his tight ass and thrust them in and out slowly.

“Suck my cock.” My young lover managed between pleasured gasps.

I leaned forward and took his cock in my mouth again. He was gentler this time, only giving little bucks of his hips instead of full strength thrusts. I tried to multi-task, working my fingers in and out of his ass while sucking his cock, but it was difficult to do both equally well. I stroked the cock with my tongue while it was in my mouth, enjoying the feel of the loose skin sliding around with each movement.

 “I need more. Fuck me with your cock.”

I pulled off his cock again and gave him a smile. “You think you’re ready for me? Already?”

 

Instead of answering Spencer moved, letting my fingers slip from his entrance. He repositioned himself, this time on his hands and knees, his back to me.

“Fuck me, Derek.”

Who was I to turn him down? My cock was certainly up for the invitation. I was oozing precum and just dying to get inside that boy’s tight hole.

I opened the condom package, and the sound made Spencer turn towards me. “Don’t you dare.”

“If you want me to fuck you, I need to use a condom, I’m sorry.”

“I’m clean, I swear. I swear to God. Just please, please, please…”

I couldn’t believe he was begging. Usually the ones doing the penetrating are those who don’t want to use a condom, not the one taking it up the ass. I contemplated for one second with the brain inside my head before the brain inside my cock took over.

“You want this?” I held my hard member for him to see.

“Yes.” Spencer absolutely purred.

“You want my cum in your ass, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes I _need_ it.”

I was unbearably aroused by his need, and mine was becoming more and more desperate as well. With shaking hands I slicked my cock with lubricant and positioned it at his tight rim. I pushed, just a little, and his hole opened just enough for me to slide the head inside. Spencer sighed in what sounded like relief. I sighed in pleasure. His tight ass was squeezing my cock almost to the point of pain. I thrust forward some more, putting half of my huge cock in his tiny passage. Another thrust of my hips put me all the way inside. The heat was indescribable, the pleasure even more so. I had never been inside such a tight ass before. Spencer was shaking, his body convulsing involuntarily. I realized he must have been in an immense amount of pain, and was trying to keep it a secret from me. No one could take me inside their ass as quickly as he did without some pain, and he was obviously getting off on it. I snaked my hand around to feel his cock, which was still as hard as ever. I stroked him gently while I gave him time to adjust to the feeling of the intrusion. I was trembling just as much as he was; he was just so tight, and so warm. I could have stayed inside just like this forever.

But Spencer had other plans.

“I need you to move, Derek. Fuck me like you mean it.”

I tried to obey. I let go of his cock so I could grip his hips tightly. I moved my hips back and forth, in and out, watching with extreme fascination as my huge cock slid in and out of the rim stretched around it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” I marveled aloud, and although I couldn’t see his face I could just envision him smiling proudly in response.

“Is this all you’ve got? I thought a big guy like you could give me a run for my money. Guess I was wrong.”

I frowned and thrust harder, secretly pleased with Spencer’s demanding tone. I gave him all my might and concentration, pulling my cock out almost all the way and snapping my hips forward with a strength I didn’t even know I had. It launched Spencer forward, his arms came out from under him and his face hit the bed. He recovered quickly, and put his hands back under him with renewed vigor and strength.

“That’s more like it big boy.” Spencer was sweating, panting, and trembling, but he still managed to sound unaffected by my five-star routine.

“Should have known you like it rough.” I panted. An idea crossed my mind, and before I thought about it too long I acted on it. I grabbed the long, shaggy hair in front of me and yanked it back, causing Spencer’s head to tilt back just a bit. It made his breathing more difficult, and he seemed to love it.

 

As much as I hate to admit it, I was tiring out, and fast. I’d fucked into Spencer’s ass with all my strength for about ten minutes, and it was like I’d just ran ten miles at Quantico. Spencer seemed to sense my fatigue, because he said, “If you slow down, I swear to God I will fucking leave. I will leave you right now.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I’d never had such a bossy, demanding person in my bed. And I’d also never thought I would love it. I gathered what was left of my strength, and yanked back hard on Spencer’s hair, tilting my own body back as I did.

I sat back on my knees, my cock never completely leaving the tight warmth. Spencer moved back with me and was now sitting atop my cock, his back slick with sweat against my chest.

“Oh, you do have some tricks up your sleeve.”

I shut him up with a kiss, which was interesting from the current angle, and ever so erotic. I bucked my hips into him, but now the task of being fucked was mainly on Spencer. And he failed to disappoint.

Spencer was like a god; a dream. He rode me up and down, over and over, and I never let go of my hold in his soft hair. His hair smelled so good, I noticed then; apple shampoo.

I had been so close to climax for so long this whole experience was like one big orgasm. I felt so warm and fuzzy and my every nerve tingled with sensation and pleasure.

I decided that I would really, really like to come inside Spencer’s ass, and soon; in order to do that I had to get Spencer to come first. I reached my hand around to stroke Spencer’s hard cock again. He was dripping a steady stream of precum, and I could tell he was close. His moans echoed off the ceiling, and mine echoed his in perfect unison. He seemed so lost; completely and totally in rapture from the pleasure.

“I want you to come, baby boy.” I said without thinking. I didn’t realize that I loved the nickname until I said it. Spencer liked it too, because he whimpered the moment I uttered it.

“You gonna come for me?” We were in the perfect position for me to whisper in his ear, and it made him shiver.

“Yes!” He cried aloud, almost in relief, and it was then I realized he was coming. I pumped him hard with my hand and I felt the sticky ejaculation ooze all over my hand and I envisioned it going all over the bedspread.

“Come in my ass!” Spencer shouted while still in the throes of his orgasm.

It was all I needed. The permission had been given, and it was all it took to toss me off the edge. I felt the orgasm approaching like a freight train, the build took me so high, I lost my breath and I could hardly move. Then came the ecstasy; the feeling of flying and the intense stimulation on my dick. My hips convulsed erratically and I couldn’t breathe. I felt my cock shooting its huge load into Spencer, and somewhere in the back of my fucked-out mind I felt proud that I claimed him in that way.

I floated down slowly. Very slowly. It took me a while to catch my breath, and I hugged Spencer’s sweaty body to mine. I could feel his heart thudding in his chest like a tribal drumbeat. It made me happy that I satisfied him, and made him feel so good.

Spencer’s voice cracked as he said, “That was good.”

I laughed at his understatement. “Good? That was fucking incredible.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Spencer smiled smugly as he gently lifted himself off my cock. I watched as his asshole furled back to normal size, only taking seconds to look like a tight pucker again. He lay down on his stomach, arms flailed out to the sides and legs spread apart. He looked so delicious, fucked out and exhausted on my bed. I could definitely stand to do this again. And again, and again.

Unlike with any other partner I’d ever had, I instantly imagined Spencer and me sharing a life together. Mostly it would just be based on sex, but I could handle that. This little brunet pushed me to my limit; and I loved it. No other lover had ever bossed me around and demanded all I could give. It felt so fucking good for me; the best orgasm in my life (not mediocre like most of my flings) and I truly satisfied him as well.

 

At least for the moment.

 

The cheeky bastard wasn’t completely finished yet. After a few minutes of resting on the bed, Spencer said, “I want you to lick my ass.”

Normally, I would have politely declined. I’d never rimmed a guy before, and I couldn’t imagine that the lube tasted very good.

But I wanted to taste him. I wanted to taste what I left inside him to mark him as mine. Because he was mine, I decided. There was no way I’d let this one go.

 

“Did you hear me?” Spencer grew impatient, and it snapped me out of my thinking.

Without answering, I leaned forward on my creaky, sore legs and placed my face right next to his ass.

“Spread ‘em.” I took a turn making orders, and surprisingly Spencer obeyed; and fast. He immediately brought both hands around to spread his small ass cheeks apart so I could see his tiny hole. It was a little red and puffy from all the fun we’d just had, but it looked undamaged otherwise. I gave it an experimental lick, and I was instantly rewarded with a gasp. I licked it more, ignoring the initial taste of lubricant and eventually getting a taste that was unique to Spencer. I loved it, and I wanted more. I stuck my tongue inside the loosened passage, and enjoyed the moans every bit as much as I enjoyed the taste. I stuck a finger inside the hole and pulled it out, hoping to draw out some of the semen I’d put inside him.

Spencer figured out what I was doing, and offered, “Suck on it. You can taste your cum.”

I tried it. I put my mouth on the opening and sucked. I felt Spencer bear down a little, and I was rewarded with almost a mouthful of hot, sticky semen. I pulled away, keeping the load in my mouth, not minding the taste all that much.

And then Spencer read my mind; or maybe I read his. He got up and faced me, so we were both keeling on the bed, ready to kiss. And we did. He kissed me sloppily, letting the semen leak out from my mouth only to lap it off my chin and lips, not wasting a single drop. He did one last sweep with his tongue inside my mouth before he was satisfied he got it all.

I looked down for a moment and realized he was hard again – or still. I hadn’t seen him go soft, so it was entirely possible that he never had.

“You look like you’re ready for more.” I marveled.

“Don’t tell me you’re not, _old man_.”

“I’ll need a minute, okay?”

“Sixty seconds?” Spencer had a smug smile. “Plenty of time.”

Before I could think or say anything, the young man was sucking on my soft cock. I gasped out of overstimulation and exasperation combined.

 

This kid was going to be the death of me.


	2. The Geek

The next morning I woke up alone. I looked all around me, and listened; no shower, no coffee maker, no footsteps. I was all alone in my apartment. I couldn’t say I wasn’t disappointed. I didn’t even have the guy’s number. My heart literally ached when I thought about going on in life without ever seeing him again. I would have to go back to the club. Surely I would see him there.

But right now, I had to get to work.

 

Work was work. Although Emily Prentiss, my teammate, could tell that I got laid the night before. She didn’t say anything too obvious, but I knew that she knew.

We all talked about the drug ring undercover mission I was doing for the local DEA, and how it ended with little results.

My ears perked up in the bullpen when I heard people talking about some new guy coming in. I literally jumped when I heard the name mentioned: Dr. Spencer Reid. I tried to calm myself; Spencer was a common name, right? But it just seemed almost too much of a coincidence to just be a coincidence.

I nonchalantly asked for his picture, and Jason Gideon, our leader, tossed me Spencer’s file. I opened it, trying to look casual, but my heart was thudding in my chest. Then my stomach dropped. I saw the photo.

It was him. Spencer, the sex god I had slept with just eight hours ago, was our new teammate; and, new resident genius by the look of his file: three BA’s, three PhD’s, IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. No wonder he was able to profile me the night before. This kid was a genius; not only in the bedroom, but academically too. One thing that surprised me was that he would have had to pass a drug test to get into the BAU. Last night he seemed a bit buzzed. So either it was only an occasional recreational thing or he wasn’t really high after all.

I didn’t have much more time to contemplate how I was going to react. People were getting weirded out that I was spending so much time staring at the top page of the file. I closed the file and plopped it on the table.

“Looks like we’re all gonna be out of a job.” I tried to joke. “The kid sounds like a real genius.”

“Well you’re about to find out.” Gideon nodded towards the entryway, and I saw him.

Doctor Spencer Reid: genius, prodigy, sex god.

Although he looked a little different; he dressed much more like a nerd, with a sweater vest and un-flattering khaki pants. But it was him. I couldn’t peel my eyes off of him as he strolled into the bullpen toting a satchel and a gift bag.

Emily noticed my gawking, and she smiled. I hoped to God that she didn’t put two and two together.

Spencer’s desk was right next to mine. I knew it because he was heading my way. He could hardly look at me as he passed my desk briskly. I caught a whiff of his Axe deodorant and apple shampoo, and it instantly gave me an erection. I marveled at how fast I’d come to be infatuated with the mysterious creature that is Spencer Reid.

Aaron Hotchner escorted him to the desk, and gave him the welcome wagon speech. He pointed around the room to each of us, introducing our names, and I smirked at the fact that he would never forget any of them. Just like he would never forget me, or what we did last night.

When Hotch got to me, the big black guy leaning back in his chair trying to look all innocent and nonchalant, Spencer just nodded a little nod and smiled a little smile. He could hardly look at my eyes and he looked shy. Yes, goddammit, he looked shy.

“Nice to meet you.” Spencer said in a dorky, geeky, shy way. What was wrong with this kid? He didn’t sound at all like himself. He didn’t act at all like himself. At least not the self I knew.

“Nice to meet all of you. I would shake your hands, but I’m kind of a germ freak, so… you know…”

I laughed. I must have sounded like a dickhead but I laughed. A germ freak? Him? They guy who drank the semen off my tongue that had just been in his ass? The guy who sucked my cock dry after we’d just fucked without a condom? A germ freak?

I suddenly wondered if this was the wrong guy. Did Spencer have a twin? One who assumed his name? It was becoming a very strong possibility. But the smell… It was identical. Not just the fragrances like the deodorant and the shampoo, but the scent. I could smell him, the real Spencer, under the other scents. This was really him. It just had to be.

I then realized that everyone was staring at me, awaiting an explanation for my loud, solitary laugh.

“Sorry, um… Private joke.” I tried to cover. Spencer looked completely unaffected, and went about putting his things in his new cubicle, right next to mine.

I tried to ignore him for a bit. I didn’t want to be a creepy stalker.

Eventually, come lunch time, I leaned over the small divider wall and said, “Hey I know a great Thai food restaurant. You want to come with me?”

Spencer looked up from his impressive speed-reading to say, “Sure, is everyone else going too?”

“No I was just thinking it could be you and me. We can get to know each other a little better.”

Spencer bit his lip and clicked his pen a few times as if he was nervous. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this whole, you know, socialization thing. I can’t really tell if you’re flirting with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you asking me out?”

I was flummoxed. This guy just had no end to his mysteriousness. “No, I just want to hang out with you. You seem cool.”

“Well, I’m not. And besides, I’ve got a ton of work to catch up on, so I should just do that.” He pretended to go back to his reading. I knew he wasn’t actually reading because he wasn’t flipping the pages like a maniac. He added, “Thanks for the invite, though,” as an afterthought.

I was suddenly not hungry anymore. I was suddenly sick to my stomach. What if Spencer was drugged up last night? What if that’s why he couldn’t remember me? If he was out of his mind with drugs, didn’t that qualify as rape?

I sat in my chair, also pretending to read something, but it was on my phone, not in a file folder. I eventually calmed myself down enough to actually get some work done, but I refused to look, think, or smell in the direction of Spencer Reid. I couldn’t deal with that right now. Right now, I needed to work.

 

 

 

“He’s in the back! Morgan you go!”

My heart was thudding with the excitement of a criminal chase. I dodged barrels and posts in order to get around the boat house and to the UnSub. We’d been chasing him for a week, and we finally nailed him. Or so we thought. We were chasing him right on the Atlantic coast, and it was only a matter of time before we would lose him to the deep blue, and I knew it. I heard a splash coming from behind the boat house, and I drew my 9mm Glock, getting ready to shoot. I stood at the edge of the dock, looking for any sign of the criminal in the water, but saw none. He must have had a back-up plan. He may have hidden some diving equipment to make an escape.

But we would catch him. Eventually.

“Call the Coast Guard dive squad. We’ve got a swimmer.” I called out to Hotch, who was just getting out of the SUV. He immediately got on his phone to make the call.

Exhausted from the two mile chase on foot, I sat on the edge of the dock, my feet just barely touching the sea water. I looked out into the open sea, almost hypnotized by its hugeness.

It was not three seconds before I heard a shout, and someone running down the dock towards me. It was Spencer.

“Morgan, he’s not gone! Get away from the dock!”

I hardly registered the words in my brain, and before I could react, I felt something tug at my foot; hard. I tipped forward and into the cold, salty ocean. My nose immediately filled with water and it stung like hell. I didn’t have any air in my lungs, and I was getting dragged down deeper. The water was not very deep, but it didn’t need to be. If I didn’t get some air soon I would be dead. I kicked and thrashed with all my might, but nothing worked. I felt a cord around my ankle get tighter the more I struggled, and I realized that it wasn’t a person I was fighting against; it was a snare trap. The UnSub had put a retracting snare around my ankle and it pulled me into the water. There was no way I could escape. Not unless…

Spencer. He was there, holding a pen knife, the only weapon that the BAU would allow him to carry. I watched in full-blown panic as Spencer slowly swam down to my ankle. I felt like he might just be too late. My vision was already blurring. I was about to lose consciousness, I knew.

The last thing I saw was Spencer trying to saw through the thin cable with the Swiss Army knife. Then everything went black.

 

I felt pressure on my chest. A lot of pressure. Hell, it was more than just a lot of pressure, it was a crushing pressure. I felt like it could kill me. But wait a minute…. Wasn’t I already dead?

Then I felt something else: a mouth on mine; it was Spencer’s, I could tell. He breathed a puff of air into me, and I felt some of it distend my stomach. It hurt like a bitch. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew what was supposed to happen next. I was supposed to cough; start breathing and maybe barf a little. At least that’s what happened in the movies. But I couldn’t tell myself to do any of those things. I couldn’t will myself to move my fingers, let alone get my lungs to cough up a quart of sea water.

I felt the chest compressions again, and again. It had surely broken a rib. I knew Spencer didn’t care. He was trying to save my life.

He tilted my head back a little further and gave me another puff of air, and this time, it did the trick. I coughed. I vomited. I shook, and coughed some more. Spencer turned me over onto my side to let me get rid of all the sea water without choking on my own vomit. This morning’s breakfast tasted much grosser the second time around.

“Oh thank God.” I heard Spencer sigh. He sounded exhausted. It reminded me of the time we’d fucked, just a month before. He’d been cold as ice and as impersonal as a clam since then, and I still had no idea why.

“Are you alright? An ambulance is on the way.”

“Did they get the guy?” It was all I could say that wouldn’t be related to what was _really_ on my mind.

“I think so, I wasn’t really paying attention. I told them I would take care of you so they could chase after him. They saw him swimming away after his attempt to drown you.”

“Thank you, by the way. You saved my life.” I was sitting up by now, and Spencer was kneeling right next to me, his hand was on my shoulder and he was staring at me with intense eyes. I knew that I smelled like vomit and seaweed, but I wanted to kiss him. I wanted so badly to kiss him, if for nothing else just to thank him for saving my life. But I didn’t. I just sat there like a dazed idiot, waiting for the EMT’s to come check me out and tell me that I have a cracked rib and that I would have to rest for a few days at least. I knew the drill.

 

 

After I was all cleaned up and bandaged, I limped my way into the BAU meeting room for a debriefing on our case. I was a little bit impaired on pain killers for my cracked rib and sprained ankle, so the meeting went by like a floaty haze. I remember that Spencer sat next to me though, and I had a boner the entire time. Afterwards, I confronted him in the break room. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and I came up from behind him.

“Hey Reid?”

He whirled around, nearly spilling his hot coffee all over me. A big slosh just missed my white shirt by an inch, and landed on the carpet instead.

“Oh I’m sorry. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you… I just wanted to thank you, again, for saving me.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive. I hadn’t been trained in CPR since high school, but I guess that it’s really handy having a memory like mine.”

“Any excuse to kiss me, right?” I tried to joke. I instantly regretted it, because the look on Spencer’s face was that of mortification.

“I….That’s not what I…”

“Relax kid, it was a joke.” I dismissed with a fake smile. I left the break room feeling sick and confused. Who was this kid? And what has he done with Spencer? _My_ Spencer? And how could I get him back?


	3. The Lover

Spencer was not drunk. He was just a little tipsy. He and the team were celebrating at a bar after a job well done catching a Zodiac Killer copycat; one of many more to come, I am sure.

Spencer looked so cute when he was tipsy. He actually looked so cute all the time, but this time he had me hard and aching to be with him again. When no one else was looking, I gave him a few looks, which he didn’t seem to pick up on. He didn’t pick up on my sexy, smoldering gaze like any other person I knew would; like _my_ Spencer would.

I couldn’t let it go. It had been six months since _my_ Spencer and I had sex, and it had been just as long since I’d had sex with anyone. Spencer had me hooked. I may have been in love.

 

I went back to my apartment feeling disappointed and horny. I could fuck a sofa right now at this point, and I seriously considered it. I had already showered and shaved before I realized that I should have jacked off in the shower. That would have helped me feel a little better. But before I could right my mistake, I heard a knock on the door.

I was still in a towel, so I looked in the peep hole. It was Spencer.

My heart thudded loudly in my chest and I swallowed thickly before opening the door. Spencer stepped inside, and instantly I could tell who he was: _my_ Spencer. He was wearing the same clothes as the other Spencer was earlier at the bar, but he was different. He walked differently, and his entire being exuded that of another person; a confident, very sexual person.

“I missed you, Derek.” He used my first name instead of my last; another sign that he was _my_ Spencer.

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you, baby boy.” I instantly pulled him close to me, not caring that my towel fell to the ground. I kissed his neck, because I was still getting over my shock and was not quite ready to kiss his lips yet. The anticipation had been too much and I had to diffuse my energy on something else for the time being. I sucked a love bite onto his neck while I unbuttoned his long sleeve shirt. He stood there for a few seconds before he decided to help me out with the undressing process.

Soon we were both completely naked, and I was ready to kiss him for real. We kissed so slowly at first. It was like a romantic kiss in the rain, and I drank him in like he was the only source of water on the earth. I noticed that he didn't taste like alcohol, just mint and something really sweet. 

Things heated up fast, and soon we were jerking each other off, right there next to the door.

“Oh fuck I missed this, baby boy.”

“Mmm. Show me how much.”

“On the bed.” I demanded lustily.

Spencer smiled and obeyed. We quickly made our way to the bedroom, and he immediately plopped down on my bed, sitting in the middle.

I followed right after him and I shoved him down onto his back; hard. I saw his head bob dramatically from the force, and I paused for half a second to make sure he was okay. He was looking up at me with a predatory gaze; I’m pretty sure he was alright.

“You miss my cock, baby boy? You miss having me fill you up?”

“Yes… I’ve needed this so much. I need your cock.”

I loved the dirty talk, and Spencer knew how to dish it out just right.

“I’ll give it to you, but you’ll have to warm me up first.” I straddled his chest carefully, being sure not to crush him, and I stuck my huge cock in front of his mouth.

Spencer opened his mouth and let me shove myself inside. He did such a pretty job, wetting my cock perfectly with his perfect mouth and looking up at me with his perfect brown eyes.

“God you look so hot.” I complimented him while he had a mouth full of cock, so he was unable to say anything snarky in return. After my cock was wet I pulled it out of his mouth and shoved three of my fingers in as replacement. He sucked on them just as greedily, and saliva-coated them to his satisfaction.

I moved my way south, reluctant to move my cock away from his mouth but also looking forward to the real prize.

I started with two fingers, remembering that he liked it rough, and on the edge of painful. I didn’t use any lubricant, and I could tell that Spencer loved the idea. I used a big gob of spit on his hole very once in a while, just to make sure I wouldn’t hurt him any.

I moved up to three fingers and it was then that I decided to jerk Spencer off while I readied him, hoping that he would be more patient if I was pleasing him both ways.

He was not.

“Derek I need your cock.”

“You’ll get it baby boy. Be patient.”

“I cannot be what I am not.”

I chuckled at that comment; only a sliver of the other Spencer was showing through in this Spencer. They were the same person, I knew, but different somehow. I decided I’d have to figure that mystery out another time. Right now, I just needed to fuck my lover.

I secretly used a tiny amount of lubricant on my cock before plunging right in. It was just like before; almost painfully tight and achingly warm. I sighed with the content relief of finally being inside my lover again. It was the best place to be, I decided without any doubt.

“You feel so tight. Just like our first time.” I stroked his cock while I fucked into him. I tried not to hold back, and mustered up the same kind of strength I used before. I knew what he liked; I knew what got him off.

Then something completely unexpected happened. While I was doing my best to thrust and jerk him off at the same time, I heard something. It was like a hiccup. I paused for half a second before realizing that his chest was heaving, like he was sobbing; crying. I started to pull out, instantly feeling guilty that I may have hurt him, but he put his hand on mine to stop me.

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just fuck me, okay?” He was obviously crying, and he shouted at me though his tears.

I tried to comply, but I was cautious. Had I really hurt him?  Were they physical or emotional tears? I couldn’t tell, and even my erection began to flag from the confusion and guilty feeling.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” I gave one good thrust after the question, hoping to satisfy him enough for one good answer.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

I thrust into him again, this time harder; my hips made a loud smacking sound against his ass.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I followed the question with another good thrust; this was by far the weirdest interrogation I’d ever done.

“Yes, you did. I love it. I need it.”

“I don’t want to _really_ hurt you. I can give you a little bit of pain, Spencer, but that’s all I can do.”

“Just don’t stop. Please.”

I resumed my enthusiastic fucking, still not completely one-hundred percent into it. My mind kept thinking about the strange situation we had. I decided that since I only got to really talk with Spencer while we were fucking, it would be a good time to talk right about now.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Spencer. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“Ah!” Spencer only replied with a cry as I fucked right into his prostate.

“I don’t want you to ignore me anymore, baby boy. I’m okay if we keep things professional at work, but please don’t turn off on me. Please. I need to know that this thing between us is a real thing.”

“More, more please!” Spencer seemed completely unable to register what I was saying, but I just had to get it off my chest.

I kept nailing him right where he wanted it as I panted, “I need you Spencer. I need you to come.”

Those words he seemed to understand and he shouted a “yes!” before I saw him blow his load all over his torso and abdomen.

I didn’t come yet though, and I wasn’t certain if I even wanted to. I was still uncertain of everything that went on tonight. I gently pulled out of his ass and visually inspected it for any blood or tearing. I saw none, and was relieved.

I lay down beside Spencer, who reached for my cock, presumably wanting to finish me off.

“It’s okay baby boy. I’m just glad you got a good orgasm.” I tried to put him down gently. I didn’t want to offend him.

“I want to. I don’t get satisfied unless you are.”

A little confused, and yet a little touched at his thoughtfulness, I let him do what he wanted. He popped the cap of lubricant and smothered some on my cock. He jerked me fast and rough, and I thought he was going to finish me that way, but I was wrong. He straddled my hips and positioned my cock right at his ass. We’d never tried this position before, and I was suddenly really looking forward to it. He slid down onto me with some difficulty, and I encouraged him the whole way, telling him how good he was and how much I loved being inside him. As soon as he was fully seated on me he started to work himself up and down on my slick cock. I wondered if he should have given himself time to adjust before going right at it, but it was obvious that he was enjoying it too. He ignored his own growing erection while he rode me gently at first, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

I placed both of my hands on his slim thighs as he started bouncing vigorously. It was so good for me, I got all the pleasure of fucking without any of the effort. Well, I put in some effort. Spencer did like it rough after all. I tried to time my hip thrusting with his movements, and soon we were bucking and rocking the bed much like a rodeo horse. It felt perfect. We were completely and totally in sync and loving every part of each other.

Spencer threw his head back and cried out, “I’m gonna come, Derek.”

“I wanna watch. Come on me.” I somehow managed to say despite my breathlessness.

It took two more thrusts and Spencer was coming again, ejaculating all over my chest, and some of it landed on my face. The look of ecstasy on my lover’s face was all I needed to climax too. I came hard and fast, the pleasure taking over me like a freight train sweeping me away on a high flying adventure. It took me a long time to come down from the high, and I didn’t even notice when Spencer slipped off my cock and lay down next to me.

“That was amazing.”

“It was.”

“Tell me something.”

“Yes?” Spencer sounded almost suspicious.

“How is it that you have so much energy after a case? I mean after this week, aren’t you exhausted?”

“I feel fine. Never better.”

“Really.” I doubted aloud.

“Really. I don’t get out much, Derek. And when I do I just don’t care about physical exhaustion. I just want to get fucked.”

“Fair enough. But are we dating?” I gulped thickly, anticipating his answer like it was a judge handing out a life sentence.

“In a weird way, I guess so.” He said nonchalantly.

I sighed in relief. “In a weird way, I’m really, really happy about that.”

 

I went to sleep seconds after that, hoping and dreaming of a beautiful tomorrow; one that was filled with Spencer and my burgeoning love for him.

 Little did I know that this was only just the beginning of the mystery of Spencer Reid, my lover and my friend. Little did I know, that this love I had for Spencer, was really not love at all.

 

 

 

 

“Good morning pretty boy.” I greeted Spencer in the elevator at the BAU, hoping to receive a smile, or a nod, or maybe a ‘good morning.’ But instead I got a curt nod and a fake, lame attempt at a smile.

“Something wrong? You seem different.” I knew I was fishing. I knew something was up with how Spencer just seemed to change from confident sex god to shy geek in just over ten hours, and this was the second time he did it.

“Different than when?” Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Last night.”

“Last night?” Spencer hit the elevator button again, vainly hoping to get the elevator to go faster. He looked and acted very nervous all of a sudden.

“At my place. You remember?” The elevator door opened, and Spencer ducked out before I could ask him again. He looked flushed and almost panicky. My eyes followed him as he walked to the bathroom, and my feet followed soon after.

I listened, and I heard a retching sound coming from the men’s bathroom. I opened the door slightly, and said, “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

I started to enter the bathroom when Spencer finally said, “Please don’t come in; this is so embarrassing.”

“Are you sick?” I ignored his request since it seemed like it wasn’t really what he wanted. I stood behind the crouched form in the toilet stall, and I tucked my hands under his arms so I could help lift him up.

Spencer let me help him, and after he’d rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth he looked much better. Color had returned to his cheeks and he perked up a little bit.

“I’m sorry, Morgan, I must have eaten something bad.”

“I don’t buy that for a minute.” I objected. “I asked you a question about last night and you went all squirrely and nauseous on me. Please Reid, I’m begging you, tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is I swear I can handle it, okay?”

“Not this, you can’t. This would endanger my job; my career; my life.”

“What? You know that relationships within the office are okay, right? Your job isn’t in jeopardy.”

“It’s not that.” Suddenly Spencer looked like he might barf again.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy.” I tried to back him off the ledge of nausea, and I wasn’t sure if it would work.

“Hey look; how about you come to my place tonight, and we’ll just talk. I swear to God, nothing will happen, I’m not making a move on you. We’ll just talk, and maybe have dinner. That’s it. Everything you tell me will never leave my apartment. _Ever_. Do you trust me on that?”

Spencer nodded. “I do. I just don’t know if I can go. I’ll try to make it.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at seven.” I left him in the bathroom, still unsure if he was going to blow chunks again. I felt so sorry for him, but I also felt so sorry for myself. I was so confused. I could only hope that tonight Spencer will come to my place and help me clear things up.

 

 

Seven o’clock pm came and went; then eight, nine, and ten. Still no Spencer. I was about to give up hope when I heard a knock on my door. I rushed to answer it.

I really should have looked in the peep hole, because the moment I opened the door I realized that it was not Spencer. It was a guy I’d seen at the club before, and he did not look happy.

He barged into my apartment, looking irate as all hell, and I instantly knew where I’d seen him. He was the Ecstasy dealer, the one I liked to watch.

“I hear you’ve been fucking my boyfriend.” Mr. Dealer seethed. He was mad, that was obvious; he had an Irish accent; that was a twist.

“I don’t know who you’re talking ab-”Before I could finish my denial, the guy threw me up against my own wall and knocked the wind out of me. I was four seconds away from letting my FBI instincts kick in so I could kick this guy’s ass, but I decided to wait.

“Don’t fuck with me tough guy. I know you’ve been screwing Reid. I followed him here last night. I saw him leave three hours later. Now if you’re still not going to admit it, you must think I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. But he’s not your boyfriend.” I was going out on a limb, but I figured Spencer was not the cheating type. My guess was that this guy was just a jealous ex-boyfriend.

The man suddenly softened. “He said he couldn’t see me anymore.”

I was pleasantly surprised that he seemed to cool down some.

“But I want him back; he’s got to take me back. I don’t know what I did. I treated him right, I think I loved him. I think I still do.”

“I know what you mean.” I couldn’t believe how much I related to this guy. He was a drug dealer and I was an FBI agent. We were both in love with the same magical creature that is Spencer Reid.

Mr. Irish Drug Dealer ended up staying for a while. We drank a beer and talked about love and loss. I never caught his name, but I didn’t care to. My previous superficial crush on him was long gone, and I’d almost entirely forgotten about it. Right now, I was in love.

 

I was in love with Dr. Spencer Reid.


	4. The Crazy

The following week I decided not to say anything to Spencer. I obviously had to give him some space. I formulated all sorts of options in my mind as to what could be wrong; why did Spencer act so differently when we were together versus when he was at work? It was like they were two completely different people. Different personalities? I couldn’t dismiss that possibility, but Spencer seemed way too well-adjusted to be mentally ill. Was this a well hidden case of Dissociative Identity Disorder? It was high up there on my list of options, right below sociopath and prankster.

 

Eventually, after enough research on all kinds of personality disorders, I felt ready for anything. I was completely willing to take any answer Reid gave me. If he gave me answer at all, that is.

It had been a month since our last encounter, and I was aching for Spencer’s touch again. It was like an addiction; I was addicted to Spencer. I shook in his presence and if he got within a foot of me I got an erection. I felt like a twelve year old boy again; completely under the control of my urges and unable to will it away.

Occasionally, and this was the only thing giving me a glimmer of hope, when I was aroused on the job Spencer would give me a pitying glance, like an ‘I’m sorry’ sort of look. Like he knew that I wanted him, and he was sorry about it. While I didn’t want his pity, (I wanted his love) I felt glad that he was at least wordlessly acknowledging that there had been something between us. It was improvement from the completely clueless and innocent act that went on before. But was it really an act? Was any of this an act? A Game?

I hoped not. I hoped to God that Spencer was the victim of some kind of illness, and that I wasn’t some sucker in a mind game. Because if it was all a mind game, I was still stuck in it, hook, line, and sinker. And I saw no way of getting out of it any time in the near future. If it was all a mind game, I was Spencer’s play thing.

 

 

Six months. It had been almost six months since Spencer and I had sex. In two days, it’d be exactly six months. This time, I couldn’t say that I’d stayed celibate. I took home a girl from a bar three months before, and it sucked. She was just so… squirmy, and faked most of her moans. It was a horrible experience, and I vowed not to do that again.

The next month I tried a guy, and he too was unable to make me feel as good as my Spencer. It was still good; he let me call him baby boy and fuck him hard. But he wasn’t nearly as demanding, or dirty, or sexy as Spencer.

 I needed Spencer, and only Spencer.

And I was going to get him back if it was the last thing I did.

 

“Reid.” I approached Spencer when I found him alone in the bullpen. Everyone had gone home, and I was determined to take Spencer back to mine.

“We need to talk.”

“I know.”

“Come back to my place. We can talk there.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“What do you mean?”

“You would know if you knew…” He answered cryptically.

“Look if I have to drag you to my place, I will. All I want to do is talk, I swear.”

“No it’s not. If I go back to your place we’re going to have sex. Anywhere else isn’t safe enough to talk.”

I knew he had a point. Even now, in a wide open space where anyone from the BAU could walk in any moment, I wanted to rip off his clothes and fuck his pretty ass on the desk. I somehow restrained myself. As I said... Twelve years old…       

“I have an idea. It may help you trust me, and yourself.”

“Okay, what is it?”

I held out my pair of handcuffs for him to see. “If you don’t trust me to not jump your bones the moment we’re alone, then handcuff me. Cuff my ankles, too if you want. Tie me up and shove me in the trunk. I don’t care. As long as we get to my place, or your place, to _talk_ , I don’t care what it takes.”

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” I stared him in the eyes for a moment before I realized it was a very bad idea; I was getting so hard and horny. I looked away, but kept my determined frown, so he knew I meant what I said.

“Okay. Just the handcuffs. No trunk.”

“Thank you.” I could have gotten on my knees and kissed his feet in gratitude for agreeing, but I resisted.

We headed towards the parking garage, and it was there that he put my hands behind my back and he cuffed me. I trusted him fully. There was no one else in the whole world that I would have trusted to cuff me and put me in his car. Spencer was the only one. He was the only one in so many ways.

 

We arrived at his apartment, which was small and dumpy compared to mine. Books were stacked from floor to ceiling and there was barely enough room for a bed, table and chairs.

In the kitchen I noticed the wall of stacked books had a sort of window in it, leaving room for someone to stand at the kitchen sink and just enough room to open the microwave.

There was a refrigerator, a small one that had two times its weight in books stacked atop it.

“Wow. I can tell you like to read.”

“I’ve already read them all. These are just my favorites; the ones I couldn’t part with.”

“I don’t think I could read all these books in my entire lifetime. You’re amazing.”

“Have a seat.”

I was still cuffed, and he looked like he intended to keep me that way. I took a seat on an old chair. It was dusty, and so was the small round table. Spencer took a seat on the other side of the table, the furthest he could be away from me without being rude.

“Looks like you don’t entertain often.”

“I’m kind of an introvert. I was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome as a kid, and although I’m not entirely sure that it was a correct diagnosis, I really am not fond of socializing.

“Why did I meet you at a club then? Isn’t that like the epitome of socializing?”

Spencer looked down and bit his lip. His voice shook nervously as he said, “That’s part of what I have to tell you.”

“Okay.” I had a knot in my stomach. I was so ready for this, but at the same time I was dreading it.

“I need you to promise me that none of this will leave here; that you will never tell anyone. Ever.”

“You have my word.”

Spencer sighed. It looked like he’d gone into a cold sweat. Despite all the nervousness and tension, I had an erection in my pants that I did my best not to think about.

“Would you believe me if… If I told you that I might not be entirely human?”

I started to laugh, but stopped halfway through. I forced my face to turn serious, and I said, “I’m sorry. Go on.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. His feet were twitching and tapping against the wood floor in agitation. “I’m sorry. This is so hard for me, Derek. I’m afraid you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I won’t. I don’t think you’re crazy. Please go on.”

Spencer leaned forward in his chair and rested his folded his arms on the table; he was still shaking like a leaf on a dead tree.

“When I was little, my mom and I were… Um… I don’t know how to put this any other way… _Abducted_.”

“You were kidnapped.”

“Well sorta, yeah.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“I don’t remember much, but I remember being in a lot of pain. My mom had to watch as they harmed me. They did things to her too.”

“Oh God…”

“I don’t know what exactly happened, or when it happened, and you can’t imagine how tough that is for me, since I have an eidetic memory. I never forget anything, and yet I can’t remember.”

“Did you get the police involved? FBI?”

“No, I never remembered enough details and… My mom claims nothing happened.”

“She doesn’t remember. Reid it’s probably just trauma; people block that stuff out; it’s subconscious.”

“It’s more than that, Morgan. She… and I _know_ this sounds nuts… but they messed with her memory. She doesn’t remember a thing. And since then, she’s had problem with her memory. Doctors say it’s Alzheimer’s, and it might be, but I _know_ it has something to do with the abduction.”

“You mean kidnapping.”

“Right.”

My mind reeled. I was so confused. How on earth did this have anything to do with our relationship, and why he acted like two different people? Why was he using the word ‘abduction?’ Did he think it was _aliens_ that hurt him and his mother?

I decided that since the conversation couldn’t possibly get any weirder, I simply asked, “Was it aliens?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I believe in extra-terrestrials. At least I didn’t use to.”

“But?”

“I found other stories; from people who have the same…. _Situation_ … As I do. It’s rare, _extremely_ rare, but thanks to the internet I’ve found a couple of people who have an identical story to mine: Memory loss, confusion, lost time… Hyper-sexuality…”

I cringed. Was Spencer trying to tell me that he was abducted and experimented on by aliens? I tried to keep my mind open, but the proverbial door was involuntarily shutting fast.

“So you’re trying to say that because of what happened to you, you have two sides: one that loves sex, and one that hates germs.” I expertly tied my summation into something that could actually happen; you know, in the _real world_. I wasn’t about to humor his delusion, if that’s what it was.

“Sort of, yeah. And I can’t help it. It happens to me every six months, like clockwork. Another part of me takes over for a night and the next morning I can barely remember a thing. Sometimes little bits and pieces will come to my memory, but sometimes I wonder if I’m just imagining it.”

“So, when we met at the club a year ago? That was-”

“That was the _other_ me, yes. I think you were chosen at random, and that it was just coincidence that we turned out to be teammates.” Spencer was beginning to relax a little bit, but not much. He was still shaking. I think he was petrified that I would freak out. I did my best not to do so.

“And you don’t remember a thing about what we’ve done? Twice now in the last year?”

“No, and it gets worse.”

“Worse?” How could this get worse? I was having sex with an alternate personality; apparently one that only shows up twice a year. I was freaking out on the inside, but managed to keep myself from freaking out on the outside.

“You think you’re in love with me, right?”

“I know I am.” I said without hesitation.

“You’re not.” Spencer said with certainty.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve had to deal with this since puberty; every guy that the ‘other me’ touches, in an intimate way, ends up falling in love with me; _obsessively_ so. It’s some kind of pheromone, or chemical seduction. I really don’t know how it works, but it happens every time without fail.”

“You’re saying that you have extra-human abilities? To seduce?” My mind was about to check-out. Any more of this craziness and I was going to be making some very different assumptions pretty soon.

“Not me, the _other_ me. Once, in high school, I was forced to give someone… um… oral satisfaction... and nothing happened. He didn’t fall in love with me.”

My heart hurt when he told me that, and it kept me from thinking he was nuts for about three seconds.

“It only happens every six months. The ‘other me’ seems to want monogamy, but eventually moves on for one reason or another. This time, I’m guessing it left the drug dealer because I joined the FBI; it knew that my job would be in jeopardy if I ‘dated’ a drug dealer.”

“Wait a minute… If you can’t remember the encounters, then how did you know he was a drug dealer?”

“Because he wanted to resume our relationship; he found me at home, the _real_ me, and expected sex. He said he was in love with me. After _one night_ he said he was in love with me!”

I saw tears develop in his eyes and I knew without a doubt that he could not possibly be lying.

That left only two options: he was either crazy, or he was telling the truth.

It was selfish of me, but I really, really hoped it was not the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it aliens? Is it craziness? Is it a supernatural ability? Is Spencer Reid even human? Keep on reading to find out! ~Rudexandxnotxginger


	5. The Fighter

We sat for a few minutes in silence, and I felt parched. All the moisture had drain from my body, it seemed. I was sweating, from nervousness or internal panic, or any number of things.

“Could I have some water?”

“Sure.” Spencer walked over to the kitchen and filled up a cup of tap water. He brought it over to the table and un-cuffed me. I was grateful to be unrestrained, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be for long.

“I’ll need to cuff you again.” Spencer informed me the moment I finished drinking the water.

I put my hands in front of me this time, and he seemed to be satisfied with that. Once the cuffs were in place, Spencer seemed to relax some more.

“I’m sorry that I have to do that… It’s just that the six month mark is in just two days, and I’m already exuding whatever chemical or psychic thing my body exudes when I’m the other person. I can see it in your eyes that you’re affected by it.”

“I’m just in love with you; that’s what you’re seeing.” I momentarily forgot that there would be no reasoning with Spencer if he was in fact crazy.

“I know that’s what you think. And I’m sorry that I can’t prove any of this to you. You probably think I’m crazy. I know you think I’m at least misguided. I can see you profiling me.”

“I’m trying not to, Reid; I’m trying to understand,” I only half-lied. I really was trying to understand, but I also was trying to profile him.

“I’m almost just as confused as you, Morgan. I can’t remember most of what caused this, or what happens when it kicks in. And I know for sure I can’t stop it.”

“Have you tried? You know, tying yourself up? Locking yourself in for a night?”

“I’ve tried everything short of suicide, Morgan. The other me knows how to get out; I honestly think it is even smarter than the real me. I put myself in the Drunk Tank at a county jail once, and it was worse than any idea I ever tried.”

“How so?”

“When the ‘other me’ came out, the seduction technique it uses made the guard attracted to me. Not only did he let me out, but he… had sex with me.”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah, and it was caught on tape. He was fired. Because of me a perfectly good cop lost his job.”

“I’m sorry.” I was so completely enraptured in his story that I forgot to be skeptical. It would catch up with me later, but for the moment I was totally pulled in.

“You have no idea how sorry _I_ am. I’m ruining peoples’ lives and I don’t think I can do anything about it.”

“You’re not ruining _my_ life.” I never thought I’d say that to him, after all the waiting I’d had to go through.

“Not _yet_ , maybe. But just wait, the other side of me will eventually decide that it doesn’t want you anymore, and it might be years until you’re able to move on.”

“I’ll take that chance. You’re worth it.”

“That’s the pheromones talking; or the hypnosis; or whatever the hell it is that this thing uses to lure you.”

“You haven’t done any tests? Gone to a doctor?”

“I have once. I went to a doctor for the hyper-sexual activity, and he couldn’t find anything wrong with me. He said that it was normal for autistic people to occasionally need some form of release, and that I was lucky it was only twice a year. He recommended a psychiatrist, and the shrink said I might be bi-polar. He wanted to put me on meds, and if I’d gone to him any longer he could have gotten a court order to make me take them.”

“But you’re not bi-polar?” It was on my list of possibilities, right above schizophrenic at this juncture.

“No, I don’t fit into any part of the description other than the hyper-sexuality. I sleep pretty well most nights. And if I were really manic-depressive, I would be manic for more than just one night, and I don’t have any bouts of bad depression, either.”

He had a point. He’d never missed a day of work since he joined, so there was very little chance he’d been in deep depression.

“I just wish it could all go away. I hate myself most of the time; my entire existence just causes trouble and heartache.”

 _And really great sex_ , I thought to myself.

“That’s why I joined the FBI. I’ve just got to help people; right some wrongs, you know?”

Remember when I said that my skepticism would catch up? Well it came back to me with a vengeance at this point. I started to question if it was even safe for Spencer to be in the FBI. If he was crazy, then the danger was obvious. If what he was saying was true, the danger showed up at least every six months. What if he attracted the affections of an UnSub? The terrible possibilities were making me sick to my stomach.

“This is a lot to take in.” I drastically understated.

“I know, and I’m sorry… Maybe it was a mistake bringing you here. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I’m glad you did.” I sort of lied. I wasn’t really sure if I would have been better off if we’d never had this conversation. Maybe I would have been okay to continue a mysterious relationship with my coworker. But it was all different now. Regardless of what caused it, I knew for sure that the person/personality I had sex with was not really Spencer, and that he hated what it made his body do. How could I continue on with a relationship, knowing what I know now?

 

“It’s only two days before it happens again.” Spencer reluctantly addressed the elephant in the room.

“What are you going to do?”

“Have sex with you, most likely.”

I tried not to look happy about what he said. I tried to keep my mind on the matter at hand. “Do you want me to lock you up? I can help keep you safe. Maybe this thing -whatever it is- will eventually give up.”

“You might last five minutes, Morgan. This thing is good. You remember the jail guard I mentioned? He had permanent erectile dysfunction due to a car accident. He was still somehow magically able to have sex with me.  It’s supernatural, or alien, or psychic. It’s something you can’t fight.”

“I’ll try. Look, I’ll try, and if it doesn’t work at least you’ll know who it’s having sex with, right? It’s just me, and not some stranger.”

Spencer looked like he was seriously contemplating the plan I proposed. He chewed his lip while he thought and thought. Eventually he nodded. “Okay, but we do it on my terms.”

“Anything you want.” I tried not to hide my excitement, and my relief. Spencer was letting me help; a really good sign that maybe we could fight this, whatever it was.

And whatever it was, whether an alternate personality, a medical condition, or some science-fiction-ey intervention, I was ready.

I was ready for a good fight.

 

Two days later, I took Spencer home to my place immediately after work. My teammates and even Hotch gave me a weird look as I took Spencer by the elbow and led him to the exit. I ignored them, deciding to come up with a story later. I was already ninety percent sure that they knew Spencer and I were involved. They probably thought it was casual, since I still flirted with Penelope Garcia over the phone all the time. I mostly did it because I couldn’t do it with Spencer without embarrassing him to death. Penelope at least liked the attention.

 

At home, I could barely resist touching Spencer. He was still his normal self, so at least he didn’t make it any more difficult for me to keep my hands off him. I wanted so badly to kiss him again; to make love to him right where we stood in my apartment.

I kept our previous conversation in my mind, running it through my head over and over. I was here to help Spencer avoid sex, not to screw him senseless.

We started with a metal chain. I tied him up to the chair with a virtually unbreakable metal logging chain and secured it with a padlock. I put the key somewhere secret, so Spencer did not know. We decided on a blindfold, made out of his soft scarf, and he said that after we finished our plan and pep talk, I was supposed to gag him with a balled-up sock (a brand new, never-been-worn sock that he brought with.)

He was not happy with our arrangement until I’d duct-taped his wrists behind him, bound his ankles together,  and placed a towel underneath him just in case of any accidents that might happen overnight.

He looked miserable, all chained and bound and blindfolded, but he assured me that it was all okay, and that he was good to go until seven o’clock in the morning.

Then the clock struck ten, and according to Spencer this was when he would change.

“Are you alright? Still comfortable?” I wiped my palms on my jeans, feeling so nervous that this would all go very badly.

“I’m okay.”

My stomach tied up in a knot as I asked, “Is it okay if I put the gag in now?”

“Don’t. I don’t want it.”

“A-are you sure? You sounded pretty serious earlier.”

“I’m sure. I need to be able to talk to you.”

My heart sank as I realized that Spencer’s voice was different. It didn’t sound hesitant, or shy, or inhibited. This was the other Spencer. I was so tempted to just shove the sock into his mouth like Spencer requested, but something stopped me; I’m not sure what.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” I informed him gravely.

“Why not? Don’t you love me?”

Pulling out the manipulation tactics already? Did this guy even _know_ who he was dealing with?

“I do love you. I love both sides of you. This is for your safety.”

Spencer laughed mockingly. He looked so confident, even though he was the one tied up in chains.

“Spencer knows nothing. He is cute, and thinks he has things figured out, but he knows nothing. He is stupid. He thinks that keeping me from what I need will help him. But it will not. It will kill him.”

My stomach was in a triple knot now. My hands shook with anxiety. There was a lot at stake here, and sane Spencer told me that the other Spencer would say anything to get me to untie him. I had to stand my ground.

“What do you mean, kill him?”

“I’m only able to come and go if I get what I need: sex, orgasm, bliss, ecstasy, etc. If I’m denied what I need, the need is still there, and I will stay until I get it.”

“You’re trying to tell me that if you don’t have sex tonight, you will still be here in the morning? I can’t have the real Spencer back?”

“That is correct. It would be indefinite; until I get what I need. And the need grows larger the longer I am denied. ”

“Why are you even here? Why are you a part of Spencer?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He tried; he doesn’t remember much.”

“He remembers enough.”

“So you’re an alien? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Spencer broke out into a genuine smile and laughed. He turned his head slightly and looked directly at me. Even though the blindfold was there he was still somehow staring at me.

“There’s no such thing.” He said looking hugely amused.

“What else is there?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you tell me.” He almost giggled; he was clearly relaxed and having fun. I had pictured a hostage situation, but instead it was looking like the true side of Spencer was the hostage; it was either sex, or Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI might never return.

 “You’re an alternate personality, I figure. It’s from some trauma that Spencer experienced as a child, the kidnapping, or bullying in school. Any of those things could cause dissociation and cause a split in personalities.  It would also explain his autism-like behavior.”

“You’ve been reading. Good job.” Spencer congratulated with fake interest.

“Am I right? Are you just a part of Spencer?”

“I am part of Spencer, but the ‘why’ and the ‘how’ you have still yet to figure out. You’ve just been guessing. It looks like you’ve got some real sleuthing to do.”

“You’re my only source for information, and you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. How is this supposed to help Spencer? If you’re a part of him, then you should be concerned for his safety.”

“I am, and I do take such good care of him. I’m even smarter than him; I can help him in ways you can’t even imagine.”

“But sex with strangers?”

“I admit I’ve had to change my techniques a bit. But I do believe I’ve gotten it right with you. You’re FBI, you care, and you are dependable. As far as I can tell I’ve set Spencer up for life. Thanks to me, you’ll always be in love with him, and that only assists in my survival. We can all three be happy.”

“And you don’t care that Spencer has no say in the matter? Are you planning on us living ‘happily-ever-after’ in a one-sided relationship?” My head was pulsing with an unbearable ache.

“It wouldn’t be one-sided for long. He’s falling in love with you, I can tell.”

As encouraging as it was to hear that, I still did not feel much better. I sat down in a chair at the kitchen table, putting my head on my hand to hopefully stop the ache.

“I’ll bet you have a really bad headache right now.”

“How can you tell?” I asked sarcastically. “Is it maybe because I’m acting irritated?”

“I was expecting you to get a headache. It’s the first side effect.”

“Side effect of what?” I suddenly began to panic inside. Did he somehow poison me? Why was he smiling that wicked smile?

“Of my powers. You and I share a certain… shall we say… _bond_. It’s psychic in nature, I suppose, but I try not to over-analyze such blessings. I also have a scent; sort of a pheromone. It only affects certain people, and it’s not like it’s magical; It will only work on those who are receptive. For example, if you weren’t already attracted to Spencer’s looks, the scent would have hardly been appealing to you. But now that we’ve had sex, you and I share a psychic bond that will last forever, and on top of that, you are now addicted to his scent. The pheromone acts as an aphrodisiac, and it is highly addictive.”

“And it gives me a headache? Some aphrodisiac.” The headache was getting worse, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I pressed my hands against my temples in an attempt to relieve the pressure. It all seemed so real now. The pain was certainly real, but the skeptic in me wanted to say that the headache was coincidental, or stress-induced, and ‘other Spencer’ was making all this up.

“The headache is part of the psychic bond; because you’re denying me. I’m trying to seduce you, and you are denying me. If you give in to me, the pain will go away immediately.”

“I don’t believe you… I promised Spencer I wouldn’t untie you.” I was doubled over in pain; it felt like my head was about to implode.

“You don’t have to. Just kiss me.”

“What?”

“If you just kiss me, the pain will go away.”

I hesitated at first, but what could it hurt? My judgment was most definitely impaired because of how much pain I was in, but I decided I had to try. There was no way I could handle this intense headache for much longer.

I slowly got up from my seat and made my way to the blind-folded and bound Spencer. He was smiling a little smug smile. I felt so dizzy in his presence; I was really beginning to believe every word he said to me. The scent he was talking about? I could smell it. It was like the smell of fresh honey, but even better; I detected notes of cinnamon too.

Spencer was already tilting his head back for me to kiss him. I leaned in carefully and kissed him softly, and tentatively. It felt so good. The world seemed to melt away under his touch, and, going unnoticed at the time, my headache began to melt away as well.

I kissed him more, and I felt high. I felt legitimately high as a kite as I sucked on his bottom lip until it was puffy and pouty looking.

I pulled back, realizing the dramatic change that had just taken place in the last thirty seconds. My headache was gone, just like he said, and I felt like I’d just smoked a joint. (Not that I would personally know what that feels like…)

“Oh God…” I gasped.

“I know, right? Feels so good.”

“Feels incredible.”

“I can make you feel even more amazing.” He added with a suggestive, sexual tone.

I shook my head, not only to say no, but also to tell myself no. “I can’t. I promised that I would keep you here until seven tomorrow.”

“I can wait… Can you?”

I seriously contemplated his question. What if he wasn’t gone by morning? What if the real Spencer didn’t come back? But I had to at least stick to my promise: seven o’clock. Then we would see where we were.

“I think I’ll have to.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer wriggled his butt a little, hunkering down into his seat. His face scrunched up in discomfort. “Couldn’t you have picked a little more comfortable spot to lock me up for the night?”

 

I left the room, needing a break from all the craziness. What the hell was going on? Was all this sci-fi shit for real? Was Spencer really luring me in with pheromones and psychic abilities? In the vein of proof, the headache trick was just short of walking on water, for me. I felt like I was going to stroke out, it felt so terrible. Then it was gone. That couldn’t have been faked, could it?

I still didn’t know what to believe. But I knew that I had to keep fighting. Who, or what I was fighting, I really didn’t know. All I knew was that I was fighting for Spencer.

And I knew that I could never give up.


	6. The Puppeteer

Morning came quicker than I anticipated, and I had somehow survived the night. I was horny as hell and had a raging hard-on literally the entire night. I had dreams; very explicit dreams about making love to Spencer. I even dreamt once about jerking him off while he was still tied up. That one really got me worked up, and I was surprised when I didn’t find a puddle of semen in my underwear.

I quickly got dressed and looked at the clock: it was eight o’clock am. I was glad to have the day off. I was reluctant to look into the kitchen to check on Spencer, but just as I was going to, I heard the shower running. How the hell did he get out?

I checked in the kitchen, and sure enough the chair was empty. The chain was still padlocked, so for all I knew he had teleported out of his bonds. The duct tape lay wadded up in a pile on the floor, and so was the scarf.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Was all this really real? Was Spencer really some kind of extra-terrestrial? Or at least partially? This was no time to lose my cool, I told myself. I decided to remain skeptical; it was the only way my sanity would survive.

Cautiously I entered the steam-filled bathroom. I pulled the shower curtain back a little, then a little more. I saw Spencer standing in the water spray, his face directly in the stream of water.

Figuring he didn’t hear me come in, I ducked my head out of the shower and cleared my throat loudly. Nothing happened.

“Spencer?” I called loud enough for him to hear me.

“Yes?”

“Um… are you… you know, _you_?”

“Yes…?”

I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was premature. The next thing I heard shattered all hopes of it really being Spencer.

“Are you going to join me in here?”

“Um… sure, I guess.” The plan hadn’t worked. That means that we had to have sex, right? I took off all my clothes and put them in a pile on the toilet lid. I did need a shower, but that was really the last thing on my mind at the moment. I stepped into the bathtub and pulled the curtain closed behind me in hopes of keeping the steam inside.

Spencer met me with a smile; it was a little smug, but not too smug.

“Did you see the mess I left in the kitchen?” He grabbed my cock with soapy hands and wasted no time in stroking it to full hardness.

I moaned at the wonderful feeling, but tried to keep my mind clear so I could find out how he escaped.

“That duct tape wasn’t very tight, you know. Once I worked up a sweat it basically just peeled right off. And the chain? Easy to slip over my head once I had my hands free, and the rest, I’m sure you can figure out for yourself.”

“I didn’t hear you trying to escape.” He was playing with my balls now, and my knees buckled. I felt wandering fingers explore my backside, and a finger slid into my ass for just a brief moment.

“I was really quiet.” He whispered into my ear. “You should be giving up now, Derek. If you want to have your precious FBI agent back you’ll have to fuck me.”

I gasped at the last two words. The idea turned me on so much I could have come in his hand right there.

“Wash my back.” He demanded with a soft, lusty tone.

He turned his back to me and handed me the bottle of body soap. I squirted a generous amount on my hands and rubbed it into a sudsy lather. Before I got it all over him though, I decided to kiss his neck. He tasted like honey and cinnamon. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed the taste before. I loved it.

I eventually obeyed his demand, and washed his back thoroughly. I spent a little extra time on his backside, and indulged myself in putting two fingers in his tight ass. Spencer moaned lustily, and it encouraged me to keep going.

“You like this, baby boy? You want it?”

“I need it.” He put his hands on the front of the shower board and stuck his ass out for me to play with.

I fucked him with three fingers, letting the soap slick the way. I knew that the soap would sting a little bit, but it was far from harmful, so I kept going. Spencer reached behind him and grabbed my erection, signifying that he was done waiting.

I slicked my cock with soap again before removing my fingers. I slid the head of my cock inside him, and already I could feel Spencer’s physical tension melting away. I pushed in the rest of the way, and watched the shower spray stream down Spencer’s back. He looked so pretty when he was getting what he wanted. He was trembling, from pleasure mixed with pain, and his eyes were closed in bliss. A steady stream of gasps and moans escaped him as I slid in and out, in and out.

I reached around for his cock and jerked it roughly. Since I couldn’t fuck him hard while we were in the shower, I could at least be rough on his cock. I was sure it would please him, but Spencer’s moans became higher pitched and sounded pained. I slowed down to a stop, just until I could figure out what I did wrong.

Spencer was crying again, I realized. I slid out of his ass and let the water rinse me off before I turned the shower off as well. He was shaking, and crying; like, really crying; full-blown sobs and tears. I pulled him towards me so I could help him out of the shower, and it was much like moving a slippery wet mannequin that didn’t want to cooperate. I eventually got him out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his nakedness. He shivered with the cold temperature change, and I grabbed yet another towel and covered his shoulders.

Spencer didn’t say anything, or even look at me. He just stood in the bathroom staring at the tile floor and sniffling softly.

“Reid? Is that you?” I put my hand on his back in an effort to be comforting, but it only made him tremble even more.

“I’m sorry…” I knew that if this was the real Spencer, then he’d just tuned in when I was right in the middle of having sex with the other Spencer. I couldn’t imagine how confusing and hurtful that must have been. I realized that I was completely naked still, so I slipped on a pair of underwear before I approached Spencer again.

“Hey, I need you to look at me.” I insisted as gently as I could.

Spencer obeyed slowly. His brown eyes were filled with tears.

“I’m so sorry.” I said again; I wanted to make sure he knew I meant it.

“This has never happened before; I don’t know why he left.”

“It’s half past eight, right now.” I estimated. “Could it be that he ran out of time?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did I hurt you? God, I’m so sorry I never wanted this to happen.” I gave him a glance up-and-down, scanning for any evidence of injury.

“I’ll be okay. I was just scared.”

“I’m so sorry. I never want to scare you. I love you.” The last three words felt like a cliché in my mouth, since I knew what Spencer thought of my love for him; that it was all chemically induced. But I had to say it anyway.

After I’d gotten Spencer some fresh clothes to wear he looked much better. I made him coffee, and gave him some eggs and toast. He looked like he was ready to put the incident behind him, and that made me very happy.

“So what did you find out? Anything?” Spencer asked after he was well into his second cup of coffee.

“Well I have a million more questions, but I suppose I got a few answers.”

He looked at me expectantly; ready to absorb every syllable with his incredible memory.

“I found out that he’s a part of you, but I guess _you_ already knew that. He didn’t give me any hint as to _what_ he is, but he said that you ‘remember enough’ for us to figure it out.”

“Is that all?”

“Well… he also claims that if he doesn’t get what he wants, he can stay as long as he likes, indefinitely, until his hunger for sex is satisfied.”

“Then why did he-”

“I don’t know.” I spared Spencer the pain of finishing his question. “Maybe he was lying, or maybe he’s toying with us. He certainly seems to like to do that. He got himself loose this morning; he must have been very skilled in order for me not to hear him.”

“You think he has different skills than I do? Like a whole other person living inside my body; one that has different areas of expertise than my own?”

I shrugged, but on the inside I was wholeheartedly agreeing. It’s not like this Spencer could do anything close to what the sex god version of him could do.

I told him about the headache, the bit about the ‘psychic bond,’ and how other-Spencer’s kiss made the pain go away in a flash. He seemed less skeptical than I, but since sex pheromones and psychic abilities weren’t exactly in the science books yet, he had very little to offer in the way of explanation.

“What would it take to make you believe that this is the real deal?” Spencer sensed my doubt.

“I would need to see a UFO, or meet an alien. Anything short of that and I’m afraid I just don’t believe.”

“But what about the other possibility? This could all just be fringe science going on here. It doesn’t necessarily have to be extra-terrestrial. There is so much to the natural world that we just don’t know; that could include sex pheromones and psychic powers.”

I paused at that, and thought for a good long while. I finally shook my head and said “I haven’t had enough coffee for this.”

I went into the kitchen and poured myself another cup. I was just about to turn around to go back into the living room to join Spencer, when I felt a presence right behind me. It was Spencer. He put his arms around my stomach and kissed my neck. It was the other Spencer now, I realized, and I instantly got an erection despite myself.

“Why did you do that to Spencer earlier?”

Other-Spencer chuckled, and kept kissing my neck. He put his hand between my legs and grabbed at my erection. “To punish him. I had to teach him a lesson.”

“Why?”

“He tried to get rid of me; put me through a lot, being tied up to a chair all night. I was pissed. So I gave him a little something he would never forget.”

“You’re sick. You could have really hurt him.”

“He’s fine. I knew he’d be fine.”

I turned around to face him, not caring that I was standing dangerously close. Our lips were almost touching. I smelled the faint aroma of honey and cinnamon again.

“Can you smell that?” Spencer said with a smug grin. “I want you; you know I want you. And you know that you want me.”

“I can’t have sex with you, not after what just happened. You _used_ me to hurt Spencer. I can’t trust you not to do it again.”

“You’re right. You can’t trust me.”

It surprised me that he agreed, and what he said next surprised me even more.

“You don’t have to have sex with me.”

“I don’t?”

“No. I can have any man I want. All I need to do is walk out of here, and in ten minutes I’ll be getting fucked by a real man; one who fucks without asking questions or making all this drama.”

“Until they fall in love with you, right?” I hardly realized that I’d stepped into the potential delusion. I guess I’d watched one too many episodes of X-Files; they were softening me up; brainwashing me into agreeing with this nonsense. “If you have sex with someone, they fall in love with you. You’re just going to have more drama on your hands if you leave now, because not only will I _still_ be dedicated to protecting Spencer, but you’ll have another lovey-dovey sap on your hands.”

Spencer seemed disappointed in my logic, in the sense that he was disappointed that I was smart enough not to buy his manipulation tactic.

“You have a point. But I need what I need, Derek.”

“Don’t you have any self-control?”

“Ha!” Spencer sent a little bit of spit in my face when he laughed. He grabbed my hand, and put it to his own forehead. “Do you feel that?”

I had to draw my hand away, his forehead was so hot.

“You’ve got a fever.” I stated the obvious. I gave him a quick glance up and down, and realized that he was shaking and sweating. His face was more pale than usual, and one of his pupils was full-blown dilated while the other looked normal.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked before I could phrase it better.

“I’m suffering from withdrawal.”

“Drugs?” It would explain a lot.

“Sex.”

I scoffed, and I took my hand away from his.

“It’s true.”

“You’re a sex addict.” I said doubtfully. “Sex addiction doesn’t work that way.”

“No, it’s not that. I need sex to _live_. It’s…. It’s part of what Spencer is now, because of the abduction.”

 “You’re trying to tell me that because of some kidnapping that happened to Spencer when he was little, he’s turned into some dual-personality psycho that _feeds_ off of _sex_?”

“You’re missing a piece. Remember what he told you about the abduction.”

“They hurt him. That’s all he remembers.”

“Then use your brain. You developed some deductions skills at Quantico, right?”

“Right…” I paused, trying to think about what on earth other-Spencer was trying to get me to figure out on my own.

I stared off into space for a minute, and I saw Spencer move. But he wasn’t moving away, he was falling. Spencer was collapsing to the floor. I tried to catch him, but it was too late. A pale, sweat soaked and scrawny-framed Spencer slumped to the floor, completely unconscious.

 

 

I tried to nurse Spencer back to health. I spent all day cooling him with a wet washcloth and attempted to awake him with the smell of hot soup, but nothing worked. He seemed to be sleeping, and I kept a close eye on him to make sure he kept breathing. It wasn’t long before the bed sheets became wet from sweat, and I knew he had to be severely dehydrated by now.

“Reid, I need you to wake up, please.” I shook his shoulder almost violently, and I heard a slight moan in response. I watched as his eyes slowly opened, and I sighed in relief.

“Oh thank God.” I was on short time, so I spoke quickly. “Reid we have to talk. The ‘other you’ is telling me that unless we have sex, you’ll die.” I nearly threw up in my mouth with how sick and twisted and crazy it sounded.

Spencer gave a single, weak laugh. “You have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“Yes.”

“Good…But I believe you; and it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And, to be honest, I’ve actually wanted to do things with you. I’m just so shy and… in a way I’m inexperienced.” He smiled, knowing the irony.

“Well I wish it was under better circumstances. I mean, your first time should be with someone you love, and you look pretty miserable right now; this probably won’t be the mind-blowing experience it should be.”

“It’s alright; we’ll have time after this, right? After you save my life?” He had a bit of a dopey smile on his face, and I was sure that the dangerously high fever was making him delirious.

“Right. We have all the time you want, Reid. I’m never going to let you go.”

“I believe you.” Spencer’s voice got quieter, more raspy and whispery. I noticed a glassy stare in his eyes; he wasn’t blinking, and his face went limp.

“Oh God.” My heart stopped, and my hand shot out to check his pulse at his neck. His skin was so sweaty and clammy that my fingers slid around while trying to track a pulse. He was alive, but unconscious again.

Tears formed in my eyes as I realized that I may have been too late in all of this; it may be too late to save him.

Then I felt a hand on my arm: Spencer; other-Spencer that is; I could tell by the look in his eyes.

“You’ve got to help me, Derek. Please.”

I was about to cave; to give in. But something stopped me.

For some strange reason my gut was telling me that this was all a trick; a ruse, or some sort of manipulation tactic. The look in his eye was not nearly as desperate as a man facing potential death. I’ve been in the FBI long enough to know what that looked like and this wasn’t it.

 

This was somehow, in some way, all one big con.

 

And Spencer’s dual personality, if that’s even what it was, was the con man.

 

That made me the puppet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is really going on with Spencer? Why does Derek think it is all a trick? Is he right, or is it all real? Find out in the next chapter, when it is all revealed!


	7. The Victim

“I don’t know what your _game_ is, Spencer, but I know one when I see one.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is all a trick; one big, huge con. I don’t know how or _why_ you’re doing it, but this is all fake. You’re not some sex-feeding creature. There is no such thing as love-inducing pheromones, and you don’t have psychic powers.”

“Oh?”

“And I’m going to prove it.”

“How?”

“Like I’d tell _you_.” I quickly rummaged through my bedside table and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. (Yes, I’d had at least a little fun with sex before Spencer came into my life.)

Before Spencer knew what I was doing, I had both wrists cuffed to the bedposts, spread as far apart from each other as I could make them.

“You’re making a mistake; I’m dying. Spencer is dying. If you leave me here I’ll die before the night is up.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

“I thought you loved me.” This time it was a valid question, not just a manipulation.

“I do love you… And I’ll _still_ love you, even if you die.” I let my answer bounce around in his head for a few moments before I got off the bed to leave.

I gathered a few things in a bag, including all the contents of Spencer’s satchel, and took a zip-lock bag from my kitchen drawer.

I walked into the bedroom, smiling to myself as I found Spencer still cuffed to the bed. I plucked a few long hairs from his head and placed it in the zip-lock bag, an action that got me a very confused look from Spencer. I said nothing to him, grabbed my things and car keys from the kitchen, and left.

 

My mind was still dizzy with thoughts as I drove to the FBI forensics lab.  I was so confused with the way things were turning around, but suddenly things were feeling a bit saner; more down to earth. I no longer felt like a foreigner treading on weak and unexplored territory. What I was going to get now was some forensic evidence; and that, I could handle.

 

Margot, the nice lady down in the lab at Quantico, owed me some favors. I helped her son get into the academy, despite his criminal record for vandalism. Now was the time to collect.

Margot stood at her microscope, studying a strand of hair for a long, long time. She looked at the computer screen every so often, just to check the progress on the digital analysis. I was getting impatient. I had been gone for two hours, and Spencer could have gotten out of his cuffs and be screwing some random guy senseless by now.

“Is it almost done?”

“Almost. You want to hear what I’ve got so far?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Your friend’s an addict alright. Cocaine, heroin, and ecstasy.”

My heart dropped to the floor. A lump developed in my throat. “For how long?” I managed to croak out.

“Hard to tell; years. It’s the strangest thing though… According to the hair sample you gave me, it looks like he only used the stuff every few months or so; but it was a lot; enough to make him go into physical withdrawal when he was off it, for sure.

Upon hearing that, I metaphorically picked my heart up off the floor, brushed it off, and placed it back inside my chest. That was the best news I’d heard for a long time. This meant that Spencer was suffering from drug withdrawal, and was not dying.

A loud beep came from the computer, and Margot immediately turned to look at the screen. She read the results in silence for a while, biting her ink pen out of habit.

“Well this confirms my theory. On and off of drugs, looks like he was off of it for about five months, used heavily for a week or two, and was off of it again. The cycle goes on as long as this strand of hair you gave me; about three and a half years.”

“So it’s fair to say that he could have been using for even longer than that?”

Margot nodded. “I may not be a drug expert, but I’ve raised four teenage boys. If your guy can control his habit as strictly as he does, then he’s probably been using since he was a little kid.”

My heart hurt for Spencer, but I was also confused. “How could he pass a drug test?”

“If it was just urine, it’s really easy to pass. You just get someone else’s urine, presumably from someone who is clean. But if he was clean for a while at the time of the test, there are good chances that even a blood sample would come back negative for drug use.”

It was all making sense now. Well, some of it, not quite all of it.

Another beep came from a different computer, and Margot studied it as well.

“Looks like _you’ve_ got drugs, too.” She looked at me with a ‘tisk-tisk’ sort of disappointment.

“I what?!” I wondered briefly if the pheromone thing was really a thing now.

“Yeah, you’ve got heroin in your urine.”

“Oh God…”

“And _your blood_?” She took a piece of paper from her printer. “You’ve got some MSG levels that are off the charts.”

I studied the printout when she handed it to me. “MSG? As in-”

“Monosodium glutamate.” She finished for me. “The food preservative.”

I know I ate Chinese food a lot, but there was no way it would make my sodium levels that bad. There had to be something to this mystery that I wasn’t seeing.

I took all the results from Margot, and made sure to take all the samples with me. I also threw away all the used test strips. I couldn’t leave any evidence behind.

Margot already knew.

 If anyone ever asked, I was never there.

 

 

I was shocked to find Spencer still handcuffed to the bed by the time I got home. It was eleven o’clock at night, and I was exhausted. I got Spencer a glass of water from the kitchen, knowing that he needed to rehydrate.

“I brought you some water, you need to drink something.”

Spencer was only half-conscious, and I noticed that he’d wet the bed at some point. I didn’t care, but I would have to change the sheets soon or the bedroom would get really rank, really fast. I un-cuffed Spencer; based on his condition I deduced he wasn’t a flight risk.

I helped him sit up and drink the glass of water, which he slowly emptied while I tipped the glass for him.

“I couldn’t wait for you to get home, I’m sorry.” He referred to the yellow stain on the sheets.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

“Did you find anything out?” This was the real Spencer talking, and I was grateful for that.

“I did, but now is not the time. I need to get you feeling better. Water, chicken noodle soup, and bed rest is what you need, okay?”

“Okay.” Spencer yawned, and I thought it was so cute. He was so compliant when he was sleepy, and I genuinely loved that.

 

I called in to Jason Gideon, our boss, and informed him that Spencer was ill, and that I was taking care of him.  He couldn’t hide the funny tone in his voice, but he gave me as much time as we needed. I knew that he thought we were shacking up for the weekend, and ironically this was the only time he’d be wrong in that assumption.

 

 

The weekend went by agonizingly slowly. Spencer liked to watch the Discovery Channel, and it just about bored me to tears. We just lounged around the whole weekend; I let Spencer sleep in my bed and I took the couch. Based on the fact that I was extremely sexually drawn to Spencer, I didn’t trust myself not to accidentally pressure Spencer into anything he normally wouldn’t want. I didn’t want him to feel like he owed me anything for helping him get better.

And he did get better. Color returned to his cheeks, he’d stopped sweating and shaking, and he was actually sleeping peacefully in the middle of the afternoon.

It was Sunday, and I had almost entirely forgotten about the other personality. Spencer had been so cute and sweet for the whole three-day weekend that it was almost wiped from my mind that he had another side to him; one that was manipulative and vindictive.

 I was bringing a cup of tea into the bedroom and I saw Spencer sitting up in bed, holding the TV remote.

I glanced at the TV, and was disturbed to see that it displayed a very naked couple, presumably having sex.

My heart sank in my chest and my throat developed a knot. I knew that Spencer would never watch something like this, so it had to be the other Spencer.

“You tried to kill me.” Spencer accused flatly.

I took the remote from his hand and turned off the girly moans coming from the TV.

“I knew you were hustling me; I knew you weren’t going to die.”

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know… You just weren’t a good enough liar.”

“So? What have you found out? You obviously think you have me figured out.”

I decided to get comfortable. I sat the cup of cooling tea down on the bedside table and took a seat right next to Spencer on the bed.

“I found out that you’re an addict: heroin, cocaine, ecstasy.”

“Okay…” He didn’t betray any emotions, and allowed me to continue.

“You dosed me with MSG while I was asleep in the crash room at work. You used a hypodermic needle. It took me a while, but I’ve found the needle mark between two of my toes… A couple hours after you dosed me, I got an excruciating headache, which you remedied with heroin; transferred by the kiss. I don’t know exactly how, but I figure you had it in a pill capsule hidden in your mouth or something like that.”

“Something like that.” He sounded a little mocking, but not too much.

“You’ve been washing yourself with honey and cinnamon in order to fake the ‘pheromone’ smell. That one was easy to figure out; you had a container of it in your satchel.”

“No one ever looks in my satchel.” He shrugged carelessly.

“So I’ve solved all your tricks, but I can’t figure out _one_ thing.”

“You want to know why.”

“Yes.”

Spencer bit his lip and looked like he was genuinely thinking.

I got impatient; I just had too many questions that had gone unanswered for too long. I was done waiting. “Are there really even two of you? Were you ever really abducted as a kid?”

Spencer snapped his head up to look at me. His expression was dead serious. “Yes. I really am another personality of Spencer’s. He was really abducted… in a way.”

“Tell me more about that; please.” I pleaded while looking deep into his brown eyes.

Spencer took a deep breath before answering, “It was fun at first… Some guy used to come around after school and walk me home. He’d never let my mom see him, and when I mentioned him once my mom thought I was talking about an imaginary friend. This guy, Kurt, he would compliment me, tell me how smart I was, and that I was special. I was only eleven; I thought he was the coolest guy ever. And, of course, I kind of looked up to him as a father figure.”

“He was grooming you.”

“Yeah, but not for what you think. He wasn’t a pedophile, but he _was_ scouting me out for something else; a secret project. He had an in with some guy at a college, and they set up a fake child-prodigy study and gave my mom some sales pitch about it being a way to get me into college. She was all for it, and since these guys were so good at manipulating she eventually let me go there all by myself. That was when their study changed. It used to be IQ puzzles and memory quizzes, but it turned into brain scans and drug experiments the moment my mom left me there unsupervised.”

I was proverbially on the edge of my seat, intently listening to every word of the scary story that unfolded before me.

“They would dose me with heroin, and plant suggestions in my head. They would take me through a nightmare, describe gory details of massacres and genocides; they even described whole scenes where my mom got tortured. It was horrible.”

I could see Spencer shaking, and I felt his hurt. Finally, the truth was coming out. I could feel it in my gut that this was the whole truth.

“It didn’t end there. They would teach me things like how to kill people; how to make deaths look like accidents, or suicides, and get away with it. Because of the drugs it was so… _real_. I went home some days thinking that I’d actually done those things; that I’d killed people.  I never told my mom, of course; I was afraid she wouldn’t love me anymore.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was completely dumbfounded and heartbroken for Spencer. I gently wiped away a single tear that ran down his cheek.

He continued, “I don’t know exactly when the split-personality came to be; when _I_ came to be. It must have been shortly after the tests started, because Spencer knows nothing of the whole thing. He just remembers tiny bits and pieces of the nightmares they put in his head.”

“So they weren’t real? His mother was never tortured? _You_ were never tortured?”

“Well, _my mom_ was never tortured, no. That was part of the brainwashing. They threatened many times that if I ever told anyone about what they did to me, that they would hurt my mom; and they gave me very graphic descriptions to back it up.  Spencer remembers parts of the hallucinations that were created by drugs and suggestion, and he thinks they’re real memories.”

“But some of them _are_ memories.”

“Yes.” Spencer took a deep breath and sighed. He looked like he was putting all he had into keeping his composure.  “I was experimented on, and not just with drugs. I’m not really sure what they did to my brain, but it made my libido skyrocket; and I was just on the edge of puberty at the time.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I’m not sure… I’ve deduced that the entire reason for the experimentation was to create some kind of sleeper assassin. They needed someone very smart, with a perfect memory and the cunning to not get caught. Then they traumatized me while I was drugged up, hoping to create a split personality; I was at the perfect age for it; my immature brain couldn’t handle psychological torture. The split personality was the one who was to be the assassin; a sleeper agent who could be called upon at a certain time and do the bidding of the man in charge.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“No.” Spencer frowned. “All they got was a traumatized, drug-addicted kid who could think of nothing but sex… I guess the sex thing was an unwanted side effect of whatever they really wanted to do with my brain. And I got too hard to handle; I was always aching for another dose of drugs, and I even _propositioned_ a few of the other kids who were getting experimented on.”

“There were others? How many?”

“Twenty or so; all boys. I had very little contact with them; the guys in charge tried to keep us from getting to know each other at all.”

“Did they kick you out of the program?”

Spencer nodded, and sniffled a little. “I wanted to stay; I knew I’d lose my source for drugs, and I began to really like this kid I saw every so often. His name was James. I wasn’t supposed to know his name, and I suppose that was another reason I got kicked out of the program; I’d figured out too much.”

“How did they know you wouldn’t tell someone?”

“They fried my brain with a massive dose of drugs and some electro-shock treatments before letting me go. They checked up on me after a few weeks. _My_ personality was dormant at the time, and Spencer had no memory of who the guys were. They left him alone after that, not realizing that the alternate personality they created knew everything; _remembered_ everything.”

I didn’t know what to say. This was all making so much sense that I was just about in tears with relief. But I was also on the verge of tears because I hurt for Spencer; I felt his pain. “I don’t know what to say, Spencer… Other than that I am so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“You didn’t do anything. What do you have to be sorry about?”

“Lots of things, but mostly I’m sorry for what I’ve got to do.”

“What’s that?”

Spencer looked at me with his beautiful brown eyes that were glistening with tears but still looked so resolute.

“The guys I told you about, the ones that hurt me and all those other kids?”

“Yes?”

“I know who they are.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And I’m going to kill them. And I’m going to need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-Dah!!! And yes, there are still some unanswered questions; I'll try to wrap them up in the next chapter as Spencer prepares to kill people. Stay tuned...


	8. The UnSub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a violent and gory scene. I normally don't do warnings, but I thought this one was needed since everything has been pretty mild on that end until now.

My heart thudded in my ears louder than the recurring echo of Spencer’s words. Did he mean it? Was he really going to kill someone? It was over no petty matter, of course; being tortured, drugged and experimented on would be enough to make anyone homicidal.

I seriously considered helping. I’d never killed anyone before. Sure, I‘d shot some bad guys, but they survived. This would be my first time, and I can’t say that I wasn’t tempted after hearing what they did to Spencer.

 

Spencer was obviously going to let me think about it; he turned his attentions back to the television, and began watching some sitcom about a gay couple. I was thankful that it was so easy to tell which Spencer I was dealing with. I was also thankful that he was willing to let me have some time to digest everything he told me.

I took out a pad of paper and a pen. I had to write all this stuff down. So much had happened in just the last four days that I needed to write my thoughts down on paper just to keep it all straight.

I made a checklist of everything that I had questions about, and made a check-mark next to all the ones that were now answered. New questions were added to the list, including the identity of the people responsible for hurting Spencer.

The seduction thing was still a bit of a mystery; Spencer claimed that all the guys he slept with ended up falling in love with him. It was supposed to be evidence of some kind of addictive pheromone or psychic powers, but maybe it was just lust? I admit I had it confused at first as well. I honestly thought I was in love with Spencer after our first time. But it was just lust; my sexual drive was both satiated and egged on at the same time; it made me feel like I was in love. But it was just infatuation; complete fascination with the incredibly skilled and sexy Spencer. It made sense that other guys experienced the same thing when they encountered someone as insightful, dirty and energetic as Spencer. He was a rare find.

I checked ‘ _seduction/love potion_ ’ off my list of mysteries.

Next on my list of questions was, ‘ _Why every six months?_ ’ If Spencer’s alternate personality was really addicted to sex, why would it go dormant for so long? The drug test results showed that he was clean for approximately five months, and then was on heavy drugs for about a week, and then off again. That meant that the personality had more sentient control than either Spencer or I thought; the other Spencer could come and go whenever he pleased, and not just every six months. The fact that he injected me with MSG while at work also went to back up that theory.

I thought for a while, thinking of reasons that a personality would remain mostly dormant for six months. The first reason I thought of was safety. If he acted crazy and reckless all the time, he would be putting Spencer at high risk for things like STD’s, life-threatening health issues, legal trouble. It made sense that the dormancy period was for self preservation. Perhaps six months was as long as it could wait. I put a half-check mark next to that question, since I guessed I’d found a satisfactory answer; I just didn’t know if it was the right one.

I had only one left: _why_.

Why would other-Spencer go through all the trouble to lie? Why make up the whole bit about needing sex to survive? I didn’t know if I’d ever truly know why he had a compulsive need to lie, but perhaps that was all there was to it: he was a compulsive liar.

Or maybe it was all to cover his drug habit; he did go through great lengths to make me think that his drug withdrawal was really sex withdrawal. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the absolute absurdity of it all. I had to give the kid points for creativity, but zero points for believability.

 

I then focused my thoughts on the future; what do we do now? The pen sat immobile in my hand for at least ten minutes as I battled with myself on what to do about Spencer’s alternate personality, and what it planned to do. I thought about telling the team about this, and asking them for advice. I could make it anonymous; no one had to know that Spencer was the one involved.

I impulsively got up from the bed, taking my pen and paper with me. I looked at my phone, and groaned when I saw three recently missed calls from our team leader, Jason Gideon.  They probably had an urgent case that needed attending to. I was about to press the call button on my phone when I heard Spencer’s voice from the doorway.

“Morgan?” Spencer sounded sleepy and confused. It was the real Spencer talking now, and for that I was very grateful. “What time is it?”

I looked at the long string of texts from Emily Prentiss and Penelope before looking back up at Spencer. “We’ve got a case. Pack your bag.”

 

 

The case could not have come at a worse time, but is there really ever a good time for a serial killer to go on a spree?

This case involved a real sicko; kidnapping young men, raping and torturing before releasing them into the wilderness, completely naked, to find a way back to civilization. None of them made it. The police found three bodies in the woods over the course of three days. It was a Colorado winter; they had no chance of survival to begin with.

We as a team figured out that the UnSub was male, mid thirties, and possibly a closeted gay set on punishing other gay men. Out of the three victims, two of them were gay, the other seemed to be straight, but may have been secretly gay, or maybe bisexual.

The last known whereabouts of two of the victims was a gay club, so we deduced that the UnSub was using it to pick his victims. We further extrapolated that he took them home to a cabin in the wilderness for a rendezvous, and instead tortured and raped them until they were on the edge of their life.

The pathology was obvious; the abused turned into an abuser. The UnSub had obviously been physically and sexually abused, and was asserting control over his life by doing the same thing to men who reminded him of himself.

Once we were briefed by the Colorado Springs police, Jason Gideon split us all up into pairs to search private plots of land that were close to the areas the bodies were found at. We were told to look for cabins, sheds, anything that could provide a private place to torture someone.

I was lucky enough to get Spencer as my search partner, and we left immediately.

 

“How have you been feeling, Reid? You okay?” I whispered in the cold dark night, watching Spencer’s flashlight beam as it pierced through the darkness and onto everything around him.

We were trudging through the snowy woods together, completely alone. I felt comfortable around Spencer, and he seemed to be catching on that I was not just trying to get into his pants. I felt bad that he hadn’t ever been in a relationship that wasn’t completely based on sex. I hoped to be his first real relationship. But I would have to be patient; take it slow.

“I feel okay; kind of like I just got over a really bad hangover; a little queasy and shaky; mostly just weak. I had Lyme’s disease when I was eight; it really feels like that.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Suddenly I stopped in my tracks, and Spencer did the same.

My flashlight had found a log cabin; it was small, and the windows were dark. It had some solar panels on the roof, but they were mostly covered in snow. It was likely empty right now, but we had to be quiet. Real quiet.

We snuck over to the building as quietly as we could; my gun was already drawn. We searched around for any hint or sign that this could be the home of a killer: blood, weapons, restraints. We saw nothing unusual, save for a small, unmarked black Jeep that was parked under a lean-to attached to the cabin. If you looked closely you could see tire tracks in the snow, but they were certainly not recent.

I put my gun in its holster, took out my phone and called Gideon. He said they would head right over, and that we were not supposed to engage any further; wait for back-up. I agreed, and hung up the phone.

“Reid?” I looked around for my partner, but saw no one. I rounded the corner of the cabin, and was completely horrified at what I saw.

Spencer’s flashlight, still on, lay abandoned on the snowy ground.

My heart rate spiked as I realized the danger we had just put ourselves in; the danger that I’d put _Spencer_ in. I reached for my phone again, to call for help, but before I could, I felt a something hit me in the back of my head. It felt like a baseball bat, and I wished it had knocked me out, because it felt like my skull had just cracked under the force of the hit. White hot pain coursed through my head and all I could see were blurry blobs of pink and purple, even though my eyes were wide open.

I reached out, hoping to grasp my fallen cell phone, while my other hand was flailing for my gun holster, but there was someone on top of me, straddling my back. The pain in my head was too much; I couldn’t twist around, or roll the guy off. I heard my gun get taken out of its sheath and get thrown far away.

A smelly rag was stuffed in my face, and I realized that he was attempting to chloroform me. I felt a bit high, but I was far from unconscious, and although my assailant had not uttered a word I knew that he was getting frustrated with my resilience.

Then his rough hands wrapped around my neck. That was working. I gasped for air, but getting none, I felt my vision blacking out.

_Goodnight Gracie._

 

 

I awoke to a scream. _Spencer._ I tried to bolt up, but I was restrained by something. I still could not see anything. I tried blinking, but everything was just black. I wondered if the room was just that dark, or if maybe I’d gone blind from the blow to the head. 

I heard another scream. It sounded bad; _really_ bad. The only thing hopeful about the screams was that it meant he wasn’t dead. That meant I could still save him. But how? I was obviously chained down; to a table, or a floor, I couldn’t tell. My head injury made me so dizzy that I didn’t know up from down. I decided that since I wasn’t going to be able to get to the bad guy, that meant I had to get the bad guy to come to me.

“Hey!” I screamed as loud as I could. “Hey, fucker! Pick on someone your own size! You Goddamn faggot cocksucker!” I used all the air in my lungs and all of the anger within my being to try to distract the UnSub from hurting Spencer. It seemed to do something; I heard a distant sob from Spencer, and an indistinct growl from the UnSub.

 I heard footsteps.

A door opened.

I nearly wept with happiness when I saw some light; I wasn’t blind. I couldn’t completely make out everything; the room was spinning, and my vision was blurry, but at least I could see something.

I saw the outline of a man standing in the open doorway, and he turned a light switch on. I cringed as a light bulb illuminated the rest of the room; the sudden change in light hurt my eyes. I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to come to focus.

The blurry figure walked towards me, and I noticed a reflected glint of light from something metallic in his hand; a knife. I tried to act calm and collected as I saw the blurry figure approaching me.

“You’re such a lovely boyfriend, aren’t you, Derek Morgan?” The voice had a sneer behind it. It was low and gravelly; the man had to be almost forty, judging by the sound of it. “Here you were, lying here taking a nap while I cut up your boyfriend in the other room. So polite of you to let us have our fun.”

All the air left my lungs unbidden, and I felt like I might just cry out of helpless sorrow. But I didn’t let myself; I had to stay strong for Spencer. I had to cling to the hope that he was still alive.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel left out. Did you want to join us? We were having such fun.”

“I want to see Spencer.” I struggled against my bonds, and now that I was a bit more conscious I realized that I was chained to the wiry frame of a cot, sans mattress.

“You’ll see him shortly. First I want to have some fun with you.”

“I want that too.” I let my FBI negotiating tactics take over, and ignored the little bit of vomit that came up into my mouth at the thought of this freak touching me. “I want to have fun; with you, _and_ Spencer. Can we play together?”

The man laughed. He laughed a pitying, amused laugh. “You think I’m going to fall for that, Mr. _FBI_? I know all your psycho-analysis tricks. I’m not going to fall for that; how stupid do you think I am?”

“You’re an idiot.” I instantly changed my tactic, hoping to throw him off a bit. “We found your hideout in like, ten minutes. What kind of guy lets his victims go, _right next to_ where he tortures them? I mean seriously, you’d have to be a forensically challenged _imbecile_ to do that.”

Seemingly completely unaffected by my taunting, the UnSub put the edge of his knife on my forearm. I felt the sharp blade dive into my skin.

I hissed in pain, but it was far from over. Once he got the blade a good inch into my skin, he swiftly pulled the knife along the length of my arm, splitting it open like a mortician would a corpse.

I screamed. I screamed louder than I ever thought possible. It hurt for about four seconds; the worst pain I’d ever been in. Then it dulled; I was going into shock. My body was trying to compensate for the physical trauma. I deduced that he missed my arteries, mostly because I was still conscious.

“Oh you sound so sexy when you scream like that, Morgan.” The man groaned as he unzipped the fly of his pants. I heard the slick, fleshy sounds of him working his cock, and it was then that my body decided to betray my resolve not to vomit.

I managed not to get puke all over myself, and most of it went through the cot's wire frame and onto the floor.

The UnSub didn’t miss a beat. I felt him stab the knife into my leg. I screamed again, but quieter this time, since my pain receptors were already maxed out I hardly felt it.

“Oh God, yes.” He quickened the pace on his cock, and I hoped to God that he would just get off this way, and that he wouldn’t have to rape me.

God must have been listening, because in a few seconds I heard the man’s breath hitch, and he groaned loudly as his release hit him. It hit me too; right in the face. He ejaculated all over my face, and I could smell the putrid un-cleanliness of his privates. If I hadn’t just emptied my stomach, it would have happened right then.

Despite the disgusting, humiliating, and agonizingly painful situation, I was glad to be conscious; that meant I might just live. And it meant that the stab wound in my leg was probably superficial. It didn’t feel superficial though, and I could feel that the entire knife was still inside, grating against my femur bone.

“You’re so pretty, all covered in my cum. You look even prettier than Dr. Reid was.”

I felt a sharp pain in my stomach when he used the past tense in his sentence. Did that mean Spencer was dead?

“I want to see him.” I begged, no longer thinking of strategies, tactics, or psycho-analyzing anything or anyone. All that remained in my mind was: _keep awake, keep breathing, save Spencer._

The UnSub ignored me. “What was it that you called him? Pretty boy? Baby boy?...Yes, he was a baby wasn’t he? Such a pretty baby boy. You should have seen his tight ass split open on my cock. It looked so good that I had to see what he looked like split open on my knife.”

“No!” I choked out just as the evil man burst into a maniacal laugh. I couldn’t stop the tears now. They blurred my vision even worse and I closed my eyes, briefly wishing for death.

“I need to see him. Please, take me to him.” I repeated it in a sobbing mantra four or five times before the man seemed to cave in. I heard a key snap in a lock, and the chains around me fell to the floor.

White hot pain coursed through my body as I felt him yank the knife out of my leg, but I hardly had the voice to cry out. He pulled me to my feet and practically dragged me out of the room and into an even brighter one.

I realized that we were in a cellar; there were dirt floors and dirt walls. Two light bulbs illuminated the small room, and once my eyes adjusted I saw the blurry image of someone laying on a cot: Spencer.

Ignoring my bleeding and gaping wounds, I knelt down next to Spencer, who was whimpering softly. I wiped the vile semen from my face and eyelids with my shirt sleeve, hoping it might help clear my vision. It didn't. 

“Derek.” Spencer whispered almost inaudibly. “Please, I need you to tie off my leg. I’m bleeding out.”

I felt his left thigh, and it was warm with fresh blood. My hands scrambled for the crummy cloth on the thin cot mattress, and I ripped it with all the strength I had in my uninjured arm. A long strip came off, and I instantly began to tie it right above where I figured the wound was. I wrapped it around several times before tying it as tight as I possibly could without ripping the cheap material.

If the wound had nicked the femoral artery, my flimsy tourniquet would only give him an extra hour, at most.

“You’re going to be alright.” I lied completely ineffectively.

I saw the blurry outline of Spencer shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so.” He whispered with a hint of bittersweet humor. “But thanks for lying to me.”

“You can’t leave me, Spencer. I need you.”

“I love you, Derek. You know that, right?”

It suddenly occurred to me that it was the _other_ Spencer talking to me. I wanted so badly to tell him how much I loved him, but I also knew that I was short on time.

I made sure to be quiet, as I assumed the UnSub was still in the room. “Tell me who hurt you. I’ll kill them. Tell me their names, and I will fucking kill them.” _After I kill_ this _evil bastard_. I added that little thought to myself.

My friend whimpered, and I could tell that he was leaving me fast.

“Spencer! Please.”

Spencer took a shaky breath and whispered,

 

“They’re right behind you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh!!! Crazy stuff! It all ends in a couple chapters, folks! Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the chilling conclusion...


	9. The Traitor

Instinctively I looked behind me, just a quick turn of my head to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, I saw two people standing in the room with us. I couldn’t see any detail; it was nothing but blurry outlines. They appeared to be watching; maybe the sickos were getting off on my heartbreak for Spencer, who I was almost sure now wasn’t going to make it.

I turned back to Spencer, who was thankfully still breathing. “I love you. And I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” I leaned over to kiss him, and because of my terrible eyesight I ended up just kissing his cheek.

“You’re not going anywhere, Morgan.” The voice I heard; it was from Evil Dickhead number two. It sounded so familiar, and my mind did a double take before settling on the definite identification.

And that identification made me realize the horrifying truth:

We weren’t going anywhere. We were going to die here.

 

 

I must have lost consciousness for a moment, but it felt like I just blinked. My two captors stood over my kneeling body like a pair of buzzards looming over a wounded animal. I still couldn’t see anything definite; everything was just a bunch of dark blobby shapes, with a stark contrast to the bulbs on the low ceiling stinging my eyes.

“If you take Spencer to a hospital right now, I won’t kill you.” I tried my very best to bluff my way out of this; I would fight for Spencer until my last breath.

A heard a scoff. An audible sneer accompanied the response, “You don’t seem to realize the gravity of your situation, Morgan. You’re going to bleed to death on that dirt floor.”

The man knelt and was practically nose-to-nose with me. Finally I could see his face, but the familiar cologne stench was already enough to tell me which fucker it was: Jason Gideon; our leader.

“Then why don’t you just kill me right now? Put my out of my misery?” If Jason Gideon wanted me dead, why play this game?

“I need to make this look like an accident, Morgan… I’ve already planned what I’ll tell the team: I arrived at the cabin here because you said you had something to show me… By the time I got here, The UnSub had already gotten away, leaving behind the severely wounded FBI agents Morgan and Reid. You bled to death before I could save you.”

“Why? Spencer doesn’t know anything. You could have just let him live!”

“You think I’m stupid?” Gideon scoffed as he stood up. His frame suddenly became a blur again. “You think I don’t have your apartment _bugged_? Spencer’s too? I _know_ that you know everything about us, and what we did ten years ago; to Spencer, and to twenty other boys. You think I could just let you live? Spencer was planning to _kill me_ for God’s sake!”

“Well, it’s what you trained him for, isn’t it?” I chuckled at the irony.

“It doesn’t matter. If I let either of you live it will _end_ me. This is just survival of the fittest, Morgan.”

I saw him turn, as if to walk away, and I lost it.

Something inside me snapped, and despite the lack of blood in my body I somehow got to my feet. I flung myself at the other man, the sicko whose name I didn’t know.

My sheer weight bowled him over without contest, and I heard a crunching sound of a few ribs breaking as I slammed him into the hard floor. I had undoubtedly knocked the wind out of him, and that bought me at least a few seconds so I could take care of the other bastard, Jason Gideon, who was probably pointing a gun right at me.

I knew he couldn’t shoot me, though. How on earth would he be able to explain that to the team? I used that to my advantage. Jason had virtually no self-defense skills to speak of, so at this point, even though I might bleed out in the next thirty seconds, I had the upper hand.

My eyesight being as terrible as it was, I scrapped my martial arts training and repeated the same maneuver that I’d just used on the other guy.

Jason Gideon was indeed holding a gun. I knew because it smacked me in the jaw as I tackled him to the floor with all my might.

I ripped the gun from his hand and tossed it away, not really seeing or caring where it went. My strong hands gripped his throat, and I had every intention of squeezing it until he died. I would have no remorse.

I couldn’t see Jason’s face, but I could tell he was panicking. He gripped my split-open arm, and I could feel him trying to tear into the ripped flesh. Luckily I was beyond feeling any pain; I was running on fumes and borrowed time. I couldn’t feel a thing.

“Survival of the fittest, fucker,” I spat at him, content with the cruel irony.

 

I heard the man behind me starting to get up from the floor, and I knew I couldn’t handle the two at once. I was about to abandon one bad guy for the other, when I heard an impossibly loud _BANG_ concuss through the room. It was so loud it rang through my bones. 

I looked to Spencer, who was still just a blurry form on a blurry cot.

“Reid!” I called out hoarsely. The room was so small, and the gunshot was so loud I couldn’t tell if the man behind me had just used the gun, or if Spencer had.

“Reid, _answer_ me!”

“I got him.” Spencer’s weak voice drifted through the air like a dove from heaven. I was so grateful to hear him speak that I almost forgot that I was still strangling Gideon.

Jason Gideon was completely motionless, not making a single sound or movement. He was dead. I felt bad that I didn’t get to see him die; I didn’t get to see the life drain right out of him or the light leave his eyes. I let up on his throat and I immediately scrambled to search his pockets.

I found a cell phone, and not knowing or caring what buttons I was pressing, I eventually heard the phone emit a calling tone.

“Yeah boss?” A bright, chipper Penelope Garcia answered the phone.

I began to cry with relief.

“Hello?” She repeated, completely clueless to all the horrors that had just taken place in the woods of Colorado.

“Send help. We need two ambulances. Trace the phone. And hurry. Spencer’s dying.” As I said those words, I looked down at my arm, completely split open and oozing a dark liquid. I saw even more blood coming from the wound in my thigh. I couldn’t hear Penelope’s response. I couldn’t hear anything. My ears were ringing with a piercing, high pitch tone and I knew that this was it. I was dying. This was my consciousness leaving my body, I knew.

My head hit the dirt floor. I couldn’t feel it, but I could tell when my perspective of the room changed from upright to sideways. I breathed in a fresh cloud of dirt from the floor, but didn’t have it in me to cough. I didn’t have it in me to breathe.

My last conscious thought was of Spencer. I knew I loved him. And I wanted him to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me... I will update very soon, I promise.


	10. The Vegetable

“Hi, Morgan… I know you can hear me. Well, I mean I _think_ you can.”

The voice was Spencer’s. I could hear the voice of my wonderful, lovely, angelic Spencer speaking to me. I couldn’t tell where I was hearing it. In my head? Was I dreaming? I couldn’t really see anything; my eyes were closed. I felt like maybe I was sleeping. I just had to wake myself up.

“The doctors say your tests look good, and you can come back to me anytime now.”

Doctors? What was he talking about? Was I in a hospital?

I felt a hand on mine and Spencer’s fingers squeezed it tightly.

 “I miss you. I miss your laugh; your smile… most of all I miss your friendship. I wish you were here.”

 _I am here!_ I tried to force myself to speak aloud, but nothing happened.

“You saved my life, Morgan. And I’m very grateful for that. I want to tell you that I love you, but I suppose that it may seem like I’m just confusing gratitude for love… But I'm not. I genuinely love you. I’ve loved you for a while, I’m just really bad at expressing it. And to be honest, it scared me. I was scared that you wanted things that I couldn’t give you.”

I hardly listened past the ‘I love you’ because I was so focused on waking myself up. I just had to respond; tell Spencer just how much he meant to me. The struggle to wake up was mentally exhausting, and I think I sort of phased out into unconsciousness once or twice, because Spencer was talking about something else entirely now.

 He was reading from an Emily Dickinson poem, and it made my heart hurt because I could tell that Spencer was crying as he read aloud.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.”

 

He sniffled and sobbed lightly while he read, and I could hardly hear a word because all I could think about was how much I wanted to comfort him.

I heard a knock, and then I heard another familiar voice: Penelope.

“I’m sorry, Spencer…” She said quietly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s okay. I was just reading to him. You know, they say it helps.”

“It does.” Penelope assured sensitively.

 “He’s still in there, you know.” Spencer said with certainty. “He’ll come back soon, I can feel it.”

“Is there anything you need? Do you want anyone to stay with you at home?”

“No, I’ve mostly stayed here still, since I checked out last week. Some of the nurses still thought I was a patient.” My angel Spencer said with a small smile in his voice.

“You should get out some. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up like this. Why don’t you come to lunch with me? We can come right back.”

“I will… Just let me have another minute, okay?” Spencer’s tears were making a comeback, and I heard Penelope’s high heels clacking against the floor as she left.

I felt Spencer sit on the bed next to me, and pretty soon I sensed his body lying right beside mine. He slowly and shyly slid his hand across my stomach and wrapped it around my side.

I could only imagine how squished he was, since hospital beds were never very big. But it felt so good. I felt so alive. I felt like I could just reach out and touch him…

“Morgan?!” Spencer sounded alarmed; but a good kind of alarmed. His hand was on mine; or maybe it was my hand that was on his. Had I just moved my hand?

“Can you hear me?! Squeeze my hand if you can hear me!” Spencer sounded so excited.

 I could not disappoint him. I summoned all my focus and muscle memory, and imagined squeezing his hand. It was an awful lot like doing blind-folded archery while on a spinning merry-go-round. I’d never had such trouble telling my body what to do.

I could hardly get my own hand to cooperate, but I eventually elicited a noise out of Spencer.

“Oh my God! You _can_ hear me!... Do… Do it again!” He sounded so ecstatic he could hardly speak. It made me happy, and I felt like I might be smiling.

“You’re smiling! Oh my God!”

I squeezed his hand, and this time it felt like a real thing; like my body was connecting more and more with my mind and my will. I told myself over and over to open my eyes; I told myself to look at Spencer. I had no idea how long it had been since I laid eyes on him, but it felt like it had been an eternity.

“You’re almost there, Morgan.” It was as if Spencer knew that I was grappling to assert control over my own body, and he was cheering me on. “Just open your eyes. _Look at me_ , Morgan.”

I had to; I needed to. My heart, my head, and my body all agreed: I had to come back to Spencer.

 

The first thing I saw was light. A bright, blaring light that I felt might blind me. My eyelids fluttered closed again, protecting myself from the seemingly dangerous light.

“Oh God, the light; I’ll kill the lights.” Spencer left to turn the ceiling light off, and he was right back on the bed with me in about one second flat.

I felt I could open my eyes again, and it took so much more effort than I ever remember it being.

 

Spencer. I saw Spencer. Beautiful, smiling Spencer was right there, almost nose-to-nose with me.

I didn’t know what to say. Could I say anything? I hadn’t tested out my vocal chords yet. I tried to let muscle memory take over in that department, to just say something as dumb as ‘hi.’ Anything would be a good start.

“I missed you so much.” Spencer filled the silence. He couldn’t stop smiling, and I knew I must have been smiling too.

“I know.” My voice was there! It sounded like a raspy, squeaky, prepubescent boy, but it was there.

“You have no idea how much I’ve prayed that you’d come back.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Twenty-eight days, twelve hours and forty-two minutes.”

“Oh is that all?” Along with the control of a few voluntary muscle movements, I apparently got my sense of humor back as well.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been sleeping for a month… How are you?” My stomach churched as I thought of what happened to us; what we’d been through. Last I remembered Spencer was bleeding out on a shoddy cot in some psycho’s basement.

“I’m better. A little worse for wear, but I’ll be fine. The doctor said I should be able to return to work soon, provided that I pass my psych evaluations.”

 

I was so entranced with Spencer that I didn’t realize that Penelope had returned. She did not go unnoticed for long, as was always her way.

“Oh my God!” Her breathy, delighted gasp made me smile. “Derek you’re awake!” She click-clacked her way into the hospital room, and the first thing I noticed was her leopard-print blouse. Some things never change.

“Hey Pen, good to see you…” My voice croaked dryly. “…Could I get some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back!” She dashed out the door faster than I’d ever seen her go anywhere.

My eyes returned to Spencer’s as soon as Penelope left. “Has it really been a month? What have you been doing all this time?”

“Waiting for you to wake up; I spent my time reading, mostly. I have read enough books to fill up a whole other apartment.”

I smiled as I pictured a gigantic stack of books next to Spencer’s hospital bed. I would have expected nothing less from the brilliant doctor.

Penelope was back with some water, and a doctor following closely behind her. I rolled my eyes, knowing that I was about to be asked a ton of questions that I really did not feel like answering. Spencer would probably be asked to leave the room, and that was the last thing I wanted.

I knew this was going to be tough; returning back to normal life after everything that had happened. All I wanted right now was to be with Spencer; enjoy the feeling of being alive, and enjoy the feeling of finally being together.

“Can’t I just be left alone for a while?” I groaned my frustrations as soon as I’d gulped the water down.

“You want to be alone?”Spencer looked confused.

“No, not you, Reid. I meant the doc.” I gave the unknown middle-aged doctor a pointed look. “My friend Reid here is a doctor. I’m sure he can make sure I’ll stay alive another hour, okay?” I knew that Spencer wasn’t a _medical_ doctor, but the other doc probably didn’t know that.

The doctor nodded and said he would return in a while, and I wasn’t smiling again until he and Penelope had bowed out.

“I would kill for a cup of coffee right now.” I practically drooled at the thought of a hot cup of good coffee.

Spencer smiled. “There’s some terrible coffee at the nurse’s station, but I can go down the street for some good stuff if you want.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” I took him by the hand and pulled him close to me. My arms felt so weak; my muscles probably atrophied a little in my month of complete inactivity.

Spencer lay against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. I felt an overwhelming happiness that he was okay; that he was even alive.

“How the hell did we _survive_?” I finally asked what was really on my mind. I had already noticed the massive scar that covered the inside of my entire forearm; it was still pink, the color of freshly grown skin.

“You saved my life, Morgan. The stab wound in my leg wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought, and the tourniquet you made kept me from losing too much blood. The other wounds weren’t as life threatening. You, on the other hand, survived only out of sheer will-power and some kind of divine intervention. You were basically completely out of blood by the time the ambulance got to us. The paramedics gave you donor blood, CPR… but you were basically dead. They said you had a two-percent chance of making it. It was a miracle.”

“Two percent?” I could hardly believe what Spencer was telling me.

“It was because you fought so hard to save me that you bled out. I’ve been beating myself up for the last month thinking that if I hadn’t-”

“Shhh…” I shushed him mid-sentence. I took his chin in my hand and looked into his dark brown eyes. My eyesight was massively improved since my head injury, but noticeably degraded from my usual 20/20 clarity.  

“I love you. I don’t want to hear any regrets, as if saving myself over you could have possibly been an option. Because it was never a question, Reid. I _had_ to save you; even if I died trying.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” Spencer’s eyes looked pleadingly into mine.

I couldn’t contain my smile as I said, “Well a kiss might be a good start.”

I could tell by the look in Spencer’s eyes that he wanted to kiss me.

He closed the gap between us, and we finally kissed for what felt like the first time (in a way it was.) We kept it light and innocent, but the meaning behind the kiss was so great that I felt myself tearing up. I placed my hands on either side of Spencer’s face and kept our lips together in a soft, loving connection.

Warm tear drops fell from his closed eyes and I wiped them away gently as they slid down his cheeks.

Spencer pulled away first, but he looked like he was already wanting to go back to kissing again.

“I won’t lose you again, Morgan. I can’t.” He wiped away the remainder of his tears with his sleeve.

“You won’t.” I rubbed his arm comfortingly. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’m yours; I want you to be mine.”

“I _am_ yours, Morgan… I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I _trust_ you… And that’s huge, for me.”

I pulled Spencer in for a hug, and I kissed the top of his shaggy head. “I want to hold you forever. Just like this.”

“Okay.” Spencer lay on top of me on the hospital bed, curled into me with his head resting on my chest. We fell asleep like that, in complete ignorance of the world around us and not a single worry in our minds.

 

 

Worries came later. Recovering from a month-long coma turned out to be much more work than I anticipated. Even wheeling to a bathroom took all the energy out of me. Muscular atrophy sucked, but in my case it was reversible. I was told that with a bit of daily physical therapy I could walk within a week or two.

Spencer stuck with me every step of the way. He never missed an appointment, a meal, or a single night in bed with me. We kept things platonic between us for the time being, but Spencer proved to be an adorable and wonderful cuddle buddy in bed. I was happy with the arrangement. I never went to bed cold, and I fell in love with the way Spencer’s feet rubbed and tangled with mine while he slept.

 We wordlessly agreed to not talk about what happened in Colorado.

Spencer never told or showed me the extent of his wounds that the sicko inflicted on him. He always wore modest long sleeve shirts and pants, even to bed, and I knew it was because he didn’t want the attention or pity that comes with scars.

 

 

Two weeks after my waking from the coma, I woke up in bed with an achingly hard erection in my boxers. I decided to vacate the bed, since I didn’t want to make Spencer uncomfortable should he discover my predicament.

Without even thinking, I tossed back the blanket, swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood up. I sauntered into the bathroom, sat down, and took a piss, though with some difficulty due to the erection. I was still only about half awake when I heard Spencer jump out of our bed and run right to the bathroom door.

“Do you have to go that bad? I’ll be just a second.” I said through a yawn. The door was not completely closed, and Spencer spoke through the cracked opening.

“Morgan, are you okay?!” He sounded stunned; alarmed, even.

“Yeah, wh-” Then it hit me. I realized what had Spencer so worked up.

I had just gotten out of the bed, left my wheelchair behind, and _walked_ to the bathroom. I could walk!

“Oh,” was all I could say. I finished up on the john and stood slowly, this time holding my hands out, preparing for a potential fall. Nothing happened. I could stand all on my own and I felt completely normal.

I opened the door of the bathroom, and immediately Spencer was on me in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you! How does it feel?”

“It feels fine. I didn’t even think about it this morning, I just did it. I guess the physical therapy has been working.”

“I’m so happy. This means we can go back to work!” Spencer was about to keep his excited prattle going, but stopped when he realized my very prominent erection pressing directly against his own groin. He suddenly looked nervous; almost uncomprehending.

“I’m sorry.” I pulled away from his now loosened grip in order to give him some space. “It happens sometimes, in the morning. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Do you… _want..._ anything?” Spencer still looked confused; like his mind was going a mile a second, calculating all the options and variables of what was happening right now.

“No, Reid. It’s just a blood pressure thing. I get erections in the morning sometimes; it’s normal.”

“I know _that_.” Spencer sounded offended that I wouldn’t assume he knew everything about male physiology. “I meant do you need any help with that? Do you need me to help… you know, _take care_ of it?”

 

 


	11. The Celibate

I was shocked at his offer, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t turned on at the idea of Spencer jerking me off. “I don’t want to pressure you. I certainly don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Spencer nodded; he still looked like his brain was processing a hell of a lot of information. Then, without speaking, he took my hand and led me out of the bathroom. Under his leading, we ended up in the bedroom.

He lay down on the bed, and motioned for me to join him. I did. We faced each other, lying on our sides. Spencer kissed me softly; the first time we’d really kissed since that time in the hospital. His lips felt so good, and I admit I got a little carried away with the excitement. I took over the kiss, but I tried to make sure that Spencer was still into it. He was. I heard a little aroused whimper from him when I sucked on his bottom lip, and took a mental note of it as I went back to kissing his perfect lips.

I felt a hand slide carefully down my side and slowly make its way to the giant bulge in my boxers.

I moaned into his mouth as he gripped my member through the fabric, giving it an experimental squeeze. I knew I had to be patient with Spencer, and just let him do his thing while we kissed.

Tongues stayed inside their respective mouths, and I dared not try to change that for fear of disturbing the status quo. Spencer had a thing about germs, and it was already a huge step to be making out like this.

I pulled away from Spencer’s lips in order to kiss his neck and I moved in a little closer to him, drawing him tightly to me. His hand was still on my erection, and I whispered, “You make me feel so good,” hoping to encourage him.

Spencer gulped, hard, and nodded with a whimper. I felt his erection pressing into my thigh, and I moved against it briefly.

He began to shake, and at first I thought it was a good thing; I thought maybe he was so aroused that he was simply vibrating with excitement. I reached my hand down and gripped his clothed cock, and Spencer all but flung himself away from me with a squeal.

My mind took half a second to catch up, and I instinctively put my hand out to touch Spencer’s shoulder; to give him some kind of comfort for whatever had just upset him.

“Stop!” Spencer batted my hand away, looking close to full-blown panic mode.

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” I gulped at the realization that I’d done something wrong. I had no idea what it was, but it had obviously impacted Spencer. “I’m so sorry…”

Spencer’s eyes glossed over, and it looked like he was shutting down emotionally.

“Please talk to me, Reid. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, tell me what’s going on…”

Reid looked up at me, the emotional shut-down temporarily delayed. “I’m not ready, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s totally okay.” I assured him gently. He let me put my hand on his shoulder this time.

“I’ve gotten you all worked up though...” Spencer sounded remorseful.

“Hey, this is hardly the first time I’ve had to just let an erection go away on its own. I was planning on just ignoring, earlier. You don’t owe me anything.” I said in the hopes that he would just let the whole thing go.

“I _want_ to do things with you…” Spencer couldn’t look at me as he said it. “I want to make you feel good.”

I sensed a ‘but’ coming.

“But I really don’t know what I’m doing; I’m afraid I won’t be as good at it as _you know_ … my alternate personality.”

“Oh Reid, you don’t-”

Spencer didn’t let me finish. “I also don’t really… um… _like_ sexual pleasure myself. I find it overwhelming, and confusing. I just get frustrated. I’ve always been too afraid to do anything with you because I don’t want to _not_ like it…. You know?”

It took me a second to process all of what Spencer just told me. Was he telling me that he was celibate? I already knew that his alternate personality was the more promiscuous one, and I knew that Spencer had socializing issues, but I had no idea that it was this bad.

“Have you ever tried doing anything by yourself? Without anyone else?” I tried to be the least graphic I could be, since I knew Spencer easily got embarrassed.

“That’s really the _only_ thing I’ve tried, Morgan. Me and my alternate personality could not be any more different. I’ve never been with anyone. In fact… you were the first person I ever kissed.”

My heart nearly stopped upon hearing those words. Did he mean that one time in the hospital was his first kiss? It touched me deeply, and I felt honored.

“I trust you. I’ve never trusted anyone as much as I do you. And… this has nothing to do with you… But I don’t know if I’ll _ever_ be ready for sex; you know… to actually _want_ sex.”

“That’s okay.” I finally had the opportunity to say something. “It’s more than okay, Reid. I don’t love you because of what you can do for me… I love you because of who you are. My heart is yours; I don’t need sex.”

Reid scooted close to me again for a hug, and I embraced him enthusiastically, placing a quick kiss atop his head as it rested on my shoulder.

“This is so unfair to you.” Spencer spoke into my bare skin.

“I don’t need fair.” I meant every word. “I just need _you_.”

Spencer let that soak in for a second. “But what about _him_?”

I knew he was referring to the alternate personality. “Reid, I want to respect your wishes. If you don’t want sex, then I will treat the other part of you the exact same way; if that’s what you want.”

“But that means he will find it elsewhere.” Spencer sounded like he was about to get sick, but instead of letting him go I just held him even tighter.

 He thought for a good long while before finally saying, “When the situation arises, please do whatever it takes to keep the ‘other me’ from finding some random guy to sleep with. Okay?”

“You mean you want me to tie you up again? That didn’t go very well the last time.”

“No, I mean… _sex_ … If he wants sex, that’s okay. I trust _you_ not to hurt me, and I need someone to keep the other side of me satiated so I don’t end up in a stranger’s bed.”

I tried to keep a straight face while he told me all of this. I didn’t want to be happy about this, because I knew it was hard for Spencer. But the testosterone-filled part of me was practically weeping with joy upon hearing his permission.

“I’m sorry this is so hard for you.” I whispered in his ear. “I love you; and I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” Spencer pulled back so he could finally look into my eyes. “You make me happy.”

We kissed again. It was a slow, romantic kiss.

I was already so turned on, and it had been months since I’d had sex… And as much as I hate to admit it, one accidental touch from Spencer’s thigh had me coming in my underwear. I seized up, and my breathing became erratic. I unconsciously squeezed Spencer’s arm tightly as my ejaculate spilled down the leg of my boxers and oozed down my thigh.

“Oh God…” Spencer whispered, sounding horrified at what had just happened. “Did I make you do that?”

I was still coming down from my orgasmic high, and it took me a while to respond. “Felt so good…” was all I could say.

Spencer studied me carefully, as if he was trying to figure out how he should feel about me climaxing basically just from the kiss. He lay there in silence, observing my recovery and return to planet earth. Once I was able to focus my eyes again, I looked at him with a grateful smile.

“That was so nice.”

Spencer hesitated, but it looked like he wanted to ask something of me. He thought for a moment longer before saying, “Could… Could you maybe do that for me?”

“Do you want me to? I thought you said-”

“I know what I said.” Spencer snapped impatiently. “I have an eidetic memory. When have I ever forgotten anything I’ve ever said?”

I just smiled in response. Spencer was so cute when he was horny. “You want me to suck you off?”

Spencer shuddered, and I could tell that it was a good kind of shudder this time. “Oh God… I think that would be too much. I don’t think-”

I was already disobeying his words, but obeying the desire in his voice.

Spencer was lying on his back, so it was easy to slide his sweatpants to his knees. I pretended not to notice the big scar on his left thigh.

 I gazed lustily at the huge erection confined under his boxers. I first listened for any signs of an objection from Spencer, and hearing none, I slid the boxers down just enough to free his hard cock.

My lover whimpered, and I looked up at him to make sure he was okay.

“Just do it already.” Spencer said, obviously conflicted.

I put the tip of his cock in my mouth, and immediately I got a surprised mewl from my adorable boy. I kept going, and before long I had his whole cock in my mouth and down my throat. It had been so long since I’d done this, and the muscles in my neck were already complaining. I cursed the atrophy, and just ignored the discomfort while I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock.

“Oh God! Morgan!” I felt his hips buck up and down, squirming on their own accord. He was clearly enjoying himself. “It’s too much!”

I sucked a little harder, and atrophy be damned I started to bob my head up and down, dragging his cock in and out at a slow pace.

“Mmmmph…” Spencer lost his capacity to speak, and I knew he was getting close to orgasm. His hands were gripping the sheets so tightly and his hips froze in a permanent upward thrust. I continued for one more second before I heard a pleasured, high-pitched cry from Spencer. His breath caught in his chest and he groaned while his hips thrust deep into my mouth.

 I felt warm cum shooting down my throat. His hips instinctively drew back, and I got a mouthful of the sticky liquid before he slipped right out.

I swallowed, but not before savoring the feel and taste because it had been so long.

“Wow…” Spencer sighed dreamily. “That was…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, and I just let the statement hang in the air while he thought of how to describe his first shared orgasm.

“It was like I had no control over my own body… but you made it feel so good that I loved it.”

I’d never heard anyone describe a blow job in that way, but I would take whatever positive answer I could get.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I moved so I could lie beside him, and this time it was my turn to put my head on his chest.

“Could we… do that again sometime?”

I could hear Spencer’s heart rate still thudding away like a galloping race horse.

“Any time you want, baby boy. Any time you want…”

 

 

As much as I enjoyed the time spent doing nothing but hanging out with Spencer, after two and half weeks of it I was excited to get back to work. Spencer and I walked through the doors of the BAU together, feeling more than ready to put the past behind us and move on with our lives.

But unfortunately, moving on would have to wait. There were loads of paperwork to be filled out and meetings to be had; all of which were going to dig up painful memories and things I never wanted to think about ever again.

Spencer had managed to postpone his own paperwork and debriefings until we both returned to work. Most of it would need to be completed individually, but some of it we could sit in together, and that would make it all bearable.

Aaron Hotchner was in charge of the interviews. Spencer had to go first, and I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek for luck as I watched him walk seemingly in slow motion towards Hotch’s office.

Damn, what I wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall during that meeting… I can’t say I wasn’t nervous as hell that Spencer would end up losing his job.

Despite my insistence, we didn’t rehearse any of this. Spencer said he would never be able to lie effectively when asked if he had discussed the incidents with anyone, or if he’d been coached in any way. I was proud of him for being so brave, but also nervous that maybe our stories would not match up.

For instance, would he tell Hotch about the alternate personality, or why Gideon wanted to kill us? I didn’t even know what I was going to say. The truth? The truth seemed so insane I wasn’t even sure if Hotch would buy it.

Two hours passed by like two years, and my ass was numb from sitting by the time Spencer came out of Hotch’s office. He looked as white as a sheet, and my instincts were to go over and hug him, but he gave an odd look in my direction that stopped me. The hug would have to wait.

I entered Hotch’s office, and I noticed that the waste basket next to the chair was nearly full of rumpled tissues. Had Spencer been crying? My stomach double-knotted with anxiety upon realizing that my fears may very well have come true: Spencer may have gotten fired.

 

“Thank you for coming in. It’s good to see you up and about again. You look good.” Aaron said robotically. I could never tell if he meant things like that. Everything the man said was cold and emotionless. “Have a seat.”

I wanted to refuse; I’d just finished sitting in a waiting chair for two hours. But it would have been impolite for me to just stand there, so I reluctantly obliged.

“I don’t see any point in beating around the bush, so let’s get started right away.” Aaron sat at his desk and folded his hands together, looking every bit a prim and proper head honcho. “I’m here to listen to your side of the story. So why don’t you start at the beginning?”

 

 

Hotch seemed to know everything. He caught me at every turn; whenever I tried to water-down the details, or take a short cut through my story, he called me out on it and made me tell the whole truth. I couldn’t tell if it was because Spencer told him everything, or if Aaron knew from another source. My stomach felt sick at the idea of Aaron listening to the audio from Gideon’s hidden microphones in our apartments.

Our meeting only took an hour, and the moment we were finished, Aaron left to fetch Spencer from the waiting area.

Spencer still looked a bit pale, and a good look at him confirmed that he’d been crying for some time and was still recovering.

Hotch pulled up another chair, and Spencer sat down right next to me. His hand was inches away from mine, and it took a lot of self-control not to just reach out and hold it.

Aaron looked at us from behind his desk, sizing us up, and thinking.

Then finally, after an eternity and a half passed by, he spoke, “Before I give my final answer, I have to say, that I’ve never seen any two agents bond the way you two have. Reid, I never thought that you would connect to anyone the way you have to Morgan, and I’m happy to see that progress in your life.”

He then turned to me. “Morgan, at first I thought you were taking advantage of Spencer, but it looks like you have a healthy relationship. I’m glad to see that.”

I gulped nervously and nodded, waiting for the upcoming sucker punch.

  
“It’s been decided that _you_ can continue your normal duties on the team as soon as you’re ready. You’ll have to pass a physical test before you can work in the field, but there will be no disciplinary action or legal consequences.”

Something made me feel like that was the last of the positivity we would hear coming out of Aaron for a while.

“What about Reid?” I reached for Spencer’s hand this time, and squeezed it hoping to convey assurance.

“After careful investigation into Agent Spencer Reid’s _condition_ , it’s been decided that he can no longer work with the BAU in this capacity.”

My heart stopped, and I fought tears. Spencer was _fired_? I knew why the decision was made. It’s not like they could let Spencer chase bad guys while he had an alternate personality rattling around in his head; one that was promiscuous, vindictive, and highly prone to drug addiction.

“Isn’t there anything we can do? I mean you can’t just fire him like this.” I was about to step up onto a soapbox, and would have if needed.

“He isn’t fired.” Aaron had a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “We just can’t have him as an _agent_.”

My mind went around in circles, trying to see what Hotch was getting at.

“We can, however, hire him as a _consultant_. It can be a full-time position. Virtually everything will be the same except he will need a handler, he will be unable to carry any weapons, and he has no authority to arrest anyone.”

Aaron spoke all of this directly to me, and it felt a little weird that he was talking about Spencer like he wasn’t even in the room. I turned to my partner, and asked, “Are you okay with this?”

Aaron, being the control freak that he is, had to answer instead. “Dr. Reid has already accepted the position, and has requested that _you_ be his handler.”

It made me smile on the inside when he used the word ‘handler.’ Yes, my mind was always in the gutter.

Spencer took a turn speaking finally. “It’s a great job. It pays almost the same, and we still get to work together.”

I felt a little dumbfounded at how well everything seemed to be working out. Aaron didn’t seem the least freaked out about Spencer’s problem, and it looked like Spencer and I would be working in close contact from now on. It was the best-case scenario that I had never even dreamed to hope for.

I turned back to Aaron, knowing that I looked like a flabbergasted little kid who’d just had his mind blown by a magician.

“What about Gideon? ...Have we gotten anything on him yet?” I still felt a little anxious that maybe I would see some sort of legal trouble for killing our former boss.

“We have a lot to discuss on that matter.” Aaron stood up from his desk, pulled something out of a drawer, and held it out towards me:

It was my badge.

“But right now the team needs you; _both_ of you. Are you ready to get back to work?”

 

I looked at Spencer, and he looked right back at me.

We were both thinking the same thing:

 

_Fuck yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the last Chapter! At least I think it will be the last chapter.... We'll see....


	12. The Assassin

Running sucked; like, really, really sucked. Out of all the things I had to re-learn after my time in a coma, running was the worst of them. I was required to complete a physical fitness test before I could work in the field (aka: anywhere but the BAU office.)

Spencer helped me train. I have to admit that having a scrawny geek who couldn’t run a mile in ten minutes, coaching and goading me to run one in five, got on my nerves just a little bit. But he did his best, and I did mine.

Amazingly, somehow, I passed.

Spencer lucked out; since he was no longer an agent he didn’t have to do any running or push-ups. _Lucky bastard._ But I suppose I should be happy that I pushed myself; at least it got me back into shape.

 

Spencer and I went out for a coffee to celebrate our victory.

It was a quaint little café that had couches and comfy chairs to sit in. I was pleasantly surprised when Spencer snuggled up next to me on the leather sofa. He’d never shown any affection in public, and I was touched that he was so comfortable with me. We sipped our coffee in relative silence, and ignored the occasional strange glances from bystanders.

Eventually our heavenly hangout was interrupted by a text from Aaron Hotchner; we had a meeting in twenty minutes. I begrudgingly told Spencer and we left immediately. He held my hand as we walked towards my car, and it made me so happy that I nearly forgot where I parked the damn thing.

Spencer noticed the huge smile on my face, and when we got into the car he asked, “What are _you_ smiling about?” He had a little bit of a smug expression on his face.

“Oh nothing…” I played coy for about half a second. “It’s just that you’re making me the happiest man alive, is all.”

“ _Really_ …” Spencer played along. “Well I think you’ve got some competition for that title.”

“Is that right?” I pulled my car out of the parking lot, and I got a sexy déjà-vu feeling to the first night Spencer and I met.

“Yes, because I think that _I’m_ the happiest man alive. You don’t just get to make wild claims like this; we’re going to have to battle this out.”

We both laughed, and laughed at the preposterousness of our fake argument, and that moment was just about the most fun I’d had in years.

 

 

The meeting, however, was not so fun.

Aaron gathered the whole team together for a briefing, and I had a feeling in my gut as to what it was about. My fears were only confirmed when Penelope turned on the big screen on the wall.

A picture of Jason Gideon’s ugly mug was plastered on the right half on the screen, and a list of names on the left.

“So… I know this is hard, for everybody…” Penelope started with her usual hesitant and careful mannerisms. “..But we’ve made a lot of progress in tracking down names of the boys that Jason Gideon… um… _tortured_ …” Her voice caught in her throat, and she looked like she might cry. She made an obvious point not to look at Spencer. She clicked a button on her remote, and it made the photo of the late psychopath disappear. We were all grateful.

“Since the experiments were not connected to, or sponsored by any known government projects, it was very difficult to find victims. But I did a lot of… perhaps not-so-legal-super-sleuthing... into Nevada’s health records of boys who were of the target age range ten years ago, and that’s when I struck gold.”

Penelope pressed another button, and nineteen photos all appeared on the screen. Eighteen were all young men in their twenties, but one was a woman.

“These are all people who suffered from short-term memory loss, hyper-sexuality, and drug addiction at the age of twelve. The symptom and age combination was so rare that finding it in the medical records database was like spotting a giraffe at a dog park.”

“What about the woman?” I asked. “Weren’t all the test subjects male?”

Penelope hesitated, and in her ever-so-Penelope way, she raised her eyebrows and said, “Yes. That is Jessica Cain… formerly known as… _Jeffery_ Cain.”

There was total silence in the room while everyone nodded and thought of the correct way to respond.

No one said anything for a whole minute, so Penelope quickly changed the subject. “I’ve looked into all the men’s - and woman’s - records and it looks like most of them are living relatively normal lives, despite the horrific things that happened to them. _Two_ are, however, locked away in a psych ward in Arizona. In short, after a thorough-est of thorough look through everyone’s work, credit card, and phone records, it is very unlikely _any_ of these poor people are killers. Thank God…”Penelope sighed loudly and pushed up her glasses.

Spencer finally spoke, “What about the last one? There were twenty of them, not including me.”

I briefly wondered if maybe the alternate personality was the one talking. Spencer looked like his normal self at the moment, but he knew very little about what happened back then. It would make sense that the other personality might take over for something like this.

“I still haven’t found anything conclusive.” Penelope sounded remorseful. “But… There was a body found nine years ago; it was too badly burned to identify, but they’re pretty sure it was a boy named James Lenz. He went missing from a high-risk neighborhood a month before the body was discovered.”

“That means the experiment _worked_!” Spencer stood up, and his sudden outburst startled everyone in the room.

I knew now that this was _other_ -Spencer talking. “They faked his death so he could live his life elsewhere, undercover and inactive until the time was right. The experiment _worked_ and that means he’s a killer! We have to find him.”

I’d never seen Spencer so worked up. He was dead serious. And I knew that he was right. If Jason Gideon succeeded in making James a sleeper-assassin, then we had to find him before it was too late.

A sinking feeling in my gut told me that we were already too late.

 

 

Spencer - or rather other-Spencer - spent hours with a composite sketch artist working on an age-progressed image of James Lenz for the team to work off of. If we were going to find him, we needed a photo.

Much to our dismay, the completed project looked so generic that I could have seen the guy a hundred times and not have remembered the face. And sure enough, Penelope’s facial recognition software gave four-thousand possible matches off of DMV photos and police mug shots. Computers could only do so much.

Spencer was confident that he would recognize the face when he saw it. He at first committed to scrolling through the four-thousand pictures to narrow it down, but his enthusiasm dwindled after the three-hundred mark.

 

“They all look so similar.” Spencer rubbed his eyes, weary from looking at the computer screen.

I walked into the conference room where Spencer was working alone, and set a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Thanks.” He looked up at me from the chair, and I recognized the desiring glare. “Did you miss me?”

This was the first time I got to really talk in private with other-Spencer since he showed up that day.

“Yes. I missed you very much.” I whispered directly into his ear, and I felt him shudder with arousal.

“Did you come to help me? I’ve needed your help for some time now…”

I would have normally thought he meant help with the mug shots, but I’d known this side of Spencer long enough to know what he _really_ meant.

“We’re at work, baby boy.” I said softly.

“I know, isn’t it so erotic?”

“We could get caught.”

“I told you; I _need_ it… You’re my _handler_ aren’t you? I have a problem, so _handle_ it, okay?”

I chuckled a little at his reasoning, but I couldn’t deny that I was turned on at the idea of having sex at work.

 I decided to keep it low-key.

While Spencer was still sitting in his chair at the table, I reached for the zipper of his khakis. I heard his breath catch when I slowly worked his cock out of the fly opening and into the coolness of the air-conditioned room. He kept his hands on the laptop, pretending to look at the photos while I stroked him teasingly.

I was crouched over him from behind the chair, and I supposed that if anyone was watching the security feed from the camera in the corner, it would mostly just look like I was slouching and looking over Reid’s shoulder to see the laptop.

“You like this, baby boy? You like me stroking your cock here at work, where anyone can walk in and see what a filthy, needy little boy you are?”

“Yes.” Spencer groaned a little too loudly. His eyes were partially closed, and I could hear his breath getting more ragged.

“Are you going to be real quiet for me? We don’t want to get caught.”

“Will you punish me if I don’t?” Spencer challenged slyly.

“Oh, but you would like that too much wouldn’t you? No, you won’t get punished. But I might not let you come if you don’t quiet down.”

That seemed to get Spencer’s attention, and he whimpered pitifully at the thought of being denied release. “Okay,” He said almost too quiet to hear. “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.”

“Good boy…” I quickened the pace on his cock, getting faster and faster, as I knew I probably didn’t have long before someone came to check on Spencer’s progress. _Almost finished._ I added that thought rather cleverly.

“Are you gonna come for me baby boy? Are you gonna get me all dirty, and wet?”

Spencer whimpered, and I saw his hands clench into tight fists on the keyboard, making the screen go all screwy. His hips bucked, and I knew he was coming. I cupped one hand at the tip of his cock while I milked it with the other, letting all the hot sticky fluid fill my awaiting palm.

Spencer bit his lip, hard, not wanting to make a sound while he rode out what looked like an amazing orgasm. A high pitched whimper eventually escaped his resolve; it was at the end, when his body began the euphoric high phase.

“Fuck. That was so hot.” I whispered in his ear.

I didn’t quite know what I was going to do with the handful of cum, but I managed to tuck away Spencer’s half-hard cock into his pants with my free hand, and then return to my normal standing posture. I kept the semen-filled hand at my side, and tried to look nonchalant while I made the short journey across the hall to the bathroom.

 

I had no idea if my incognito hand-job mission was a success, or if people were just pretending they didn’t notice. But it certainly earned points with Spencer, who was affectionately smiling the moment I returned to the conference room to check on him again.

 

“Did you find anything yet?”

“I’ve got a few possible photos that could be him, but I’ve only looked through five-hundred. I’m not even fifteen percent done and already I feel like my memory’s playing tricks on me; sometimes they _all_ look like him.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t get upset… But I think I may have found him.”

“You what?!” Spencer whirled around to look at me. “How?!”

“I had Garcia look through the list to see if anyone on it seemed to just appear out of thin air, if their birth certificates looked like they might be faked, or if both parents are listed as unknown or deceased.”

“And?!” Spencer was at the edge of his seat with anticipation.

“We’ve got it narrowed down to fifty.”

Spencer outright squealed and hopped up out of his chair to hug me. I was pleasantly surprised at the sudden affection, and certainly excited to get this loose end taken care of soon.

 

 

Spencer looked at the big screen in the meeting room as we walked in, and something he saw made him stop right in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s him.” He got closer to the screen and pointed to a photo of a brunet, early-twenties guy; one of many on the screen. “That’s definitely him.”

Penelope seemed a little surprised at Spencer’s sureness after ten years, but I was hardly so. I can’t say I wasn’t impressed, however.

“That young man is Jeremy Grange,” Penelope began.  “Formerly known as James Lenz. He’s a newly-certified electrician in Joliet, Illinois. Until a year ago he had no credit card, and no social security card; he had to file for one using a very good, but still fake, birth certificate, on which the parents’ names are also fake.”

“He’s been activated.” Spencer said without any doubt in his voice. “There’s no way he would put himself on the map like this all of a sudden if he wasn’t in need of making a cover story for himself. An electrician is the perfect choice: flexible hours, access to other peoples’ homes, and a fairly dependable alibi if he ever needs it.”

Aaron Hotchner spoke up, “We need to find him. The plane leaves in thirty minutes.”

I looked to Spencer, and he looked back at me with an anxious expression. I knew what he was thinking: He was nervous about meeting the young man who went through the same torture as he did. He was afraid to see what he would have turned out to be like had the experiment worked on him.

But most of all, he was afraid because the brilliant genius Dr. Spencer Reid was about to meet his match.

 

 

 

“You _can’t_ let them go in, yet.” Spencer hissed at me insistently.

We were sitting in the black SWAT van, right outside of Jeremy Grange’s apartment building. It was just me and Spencer; the rest of the BAU and SWAT team had just filed out to move in on Jeremy.  I was having a hard time comprehending what Spencer was saying, because of all the chatter going on in the walkie-talkie earpiece.

“Derek it’s not safe, okay? If this guy is half as good as I think he is, this whole apartment is a decoy, and maybe a deathtrap.”

“What do you want me to do?” I looked at him square in the eye, and there I saw uncertainty.

“I don’t know. Just tell them to be careful; watch for trip wires.”

I quickly relayed the message to the team, and Spencer relaxed visibly, but he still looked a bit on-edge.

“I wish we were in there.”

“You know we can’t. It’s not safe for you.”

“Why? I’m the only one in the FBI whose brain got scrambled by the same twisted psycho as him! Why can’t I be the one to bring him in?”

“Because of the _same_ reason. I’m sorry Reid, but we can’t have an alternate personality negotiating with a sleeper-assassin. It’s just too risky.”

Spencer knew I was right; I could see it in his eyes. But he still wasn’t done fighting. He kept quiet for the time being, as he sat in the back of the spacious SWAT van with me. His arms were crossed in a defiant and indignant pose.

There was a bunch of confusing activity happening over the radio, and I honed in on it, trying to understand it. The gist of it was, that thanks to Spencer’s warning, they’d just found a trip wire attached to a loaded RPG launcher. _Thank God for Spencer’s alternate personality_.

The next news I heard over the radio was that they disarmed the booby trap, and I took a moment to tell Spencer about it.

I looked up, but saw no one. I cursed to myself, and looked in the front seats of the van, rapidly searching for Spencer, but it was all in vain.

Spencer was missing.

And I had no idea where the fuck he’d gone.

 

 

Five hours. Spencer was gone for five hours. Dawn was just starting to break, and none of us had gotten a wink of sleep. I was worried that Spencer went and got himself killed, perhaps by Jeremy Grange, or perhaps by some random gangster looking for trouble. A knot developed in my throat as I thought that maybe other-Spencer was just hooking up with some guy. I shook my head, hoping to clear that thought. Spencer wouldn’t do that, would he?…

 

My phone rang, and I didn’t even look at it before answering. “Reid?” I automatically guessed.

“I’ve got Jeremy.” I heard the voice of my genius Spencer coming through the speaker. “He’s injured, though. We’re going to need an ambulance.”

I was hardly able to comprehend anything he said. I was just so relieved that he was alive.

“Are you okay?” I had priorities, obviously.

“I’m fine. Mostly. Just come to the hotel on Height St… Room 506, alright?” Spencer sounded exhausted, but for the most part okay.

The moment he hung up the phone, I called Hotch, and we all piled into the SWAT van and sped towards the hotel.

 

 

In bed; the stupid fucker was in bed.

We found Jeremy Grange naked and handcuffed to the bedposts in room 506.

Spencer had let us in the room, and was clothed, although I wasn’t really sure if he’d been that way the entire time. I tried to tell myself that I was just being an over-protective and jealous boyfriend, but my gut told me that I wasn’t.

Jeremy had a gunshot wound in his side, but it was mostly just a bullet graze. He was otherwise unscathed and very much irate to have been caught.

 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” I confronted Spencer while they were wheeling Jeremy out of the hotel room, handcuffed to a gurney now instead of a bed.

“Can’t it wait?” Spencer fell against my chest, completely exhausted, and I held him to me to keep him from collapsing to the floor.

“Yeah, it can wait. Let’s get you home.”

 

 

 

The afternoon felt more like morning, since we went to bed at ten o’clock am and woke up at three pm. Five hours of sleep worked miracles for my brain, and I felt ready for just about anything. I hopped out of the bed, being careful not to wake the sleeping Spencer, and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee.

Once the coffee was finished I brought two cups into the bedroom and set one on the bedside table next to Spencer, who smiled upon smelling the fresh brew.

“Hey, rise and shine beautiful.” I coaxed him to wake up while I sat on my side of the bed with my own cup of coffee.

Spencer awoke slowly, looking more than a little adorable with his bed-head and confused, wrinkled-nose expression.

“Thanks for the coffee, Derek…” Other-Spencer rubbed his eyes and ran a lazy hand through his hair in a useless attempt to detangle it. We sat in silence while he gulped the hot coffee down to half a cup.

I broke the silence first. “So, what happened with Jeremy? How’d you managed to handcuff him like that? Actually, how did you even _find_ him?”

“He texted me. He said that if I wanted him I would have to meet him at the hotel. He gave me a decoy hotel room number, of course. He met me there when he knew for sure that I came alone, and took me to his actual room on the fifth floor.”

“Did he… hurt you?”

“No.” Spencer shook his head and smiled a little smug smile. “He told me that he’d kept tabs on everyone from the experiment, and especially me, ever since I got recruited by the FBI. He knew that Jason Gideon was in charge of the BAU, and he knew he was the man responsible for the experimentation. He figured I could eventually be of some use to him, and he was right. Well, he _thought_ he was right when I showed up at his hotel. He wanted me to throw the FBI off his trail. He offered to pay me fifty thousand dollars. I asked him a lot of questions; like who his boss was, or who would tell him the target, but he didn’t give me much. It sounded like high-level government stuff.”

“Then what happened? How did you manage to restrain him?” I gulped as I remembered the very naked Jeremy lying on the bed, squirming in his handcuffs, cursing and spitting at anyone who neared.

“I did the one thing I’m good at, Derek… I seduced him.”

The answer hurt, although deep down inside I already knew.

Spencer saw the look in my eyes; the look that told him that I was hurt, and jealous. “Oh relax. I didn’t _actually_ have sex with him, okay?”

I sighed audibly. Spencer shrugged while he said, “We got close… But I didn’t let him fuck me.”

“That hardly makes me feel any less jealous…” I informed him. “But I’m still glad of that… So what did you do?”

“I cuffed one hand to the bedpost while he was blissed-out on an incredibly intense orgasm. Once he realized what I’d done, he freaked out, and reached for a gun he had hidden under the mattress. We struggled, he got shot, and while he was still dazed and screaming about the gunshot wound I cuffed his other hand. Easy as that.”

“Easy as that, huh?” I looked at him with disbelief. “I still can’t believe you got him. I mean, it’s not like he’s killed anyone yet, but you took down a sleeper-assassin single-handedly in one night. That’s pretty damn incredible.”

“What can I say?... After all, it doesn’t get much better than ‘pretty damn incredible.’” He teased me openly by quoting me with an absurdly exaggerated masculine tone.

“I do _not_ sound like that.”

“You do too!” Spencer sat his coffee off to the side so he could pounce on me in the bed.

“I do not!” I took his face in my hands, almost roughly, and kissed him on the lips, hoping to end any further argument. Spencer reciprocated the kiss, and I felt his tongue slip into my mouth briefly.

“Final words,” Spencer mumbled without moving away from my lips. “Do. Too.”

I laughed, and tipped Spencer onto his back while attempting to kiss the smile right off his face.

 It was in that moment that I realized something I never had before:

 

I was truly, without a doubt, the happiest man alive.


	13. The End

“Spencer? Are you okay?”

Other-Spencer and I had just finished giving each other hand-jobs in bed, and immediately after the orgasmic high passed, I could tell that the real Spencer was back. I felt something akin to an awkward tension between us, and he refused to look at me for a full minute.

“Hey, I need you to talk to me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Spencer finally said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just thinking, is all.”

“Thinking about what?”

“About… what that man did to me… back in Colorado.”

I felt sick at the mention of it. “Oh God, Spencer. Please don’t think about that psycho. He doesn’t deserve a single second of thought in that head of yours.”

“I know… It’s just that I feel bad that I never told you what happened; what he did to me.”

“You don’t need to. You don’t ever need to.”

Spencer didn’t respond, he simply pulled the waistband of his boxers down to his ankles, and lay down on his stomach.

My heart ended up in my throat as I realized what he was doing; He was letting me see his scars. My eyes welled up with tears and I wiped them away as I moved around on the bed so I could see what Spencer was trying to show me.

His legs looked fine, save for the big scar on his thigh that I already knew about. My eyes drifted to what I knew he’d been hiding, and it made me gasp. His ass was all torn up, striped with pink, wrinkly scars. Without any prompting, Spencer reached around and spread his round butt-cheeks so I could see better, and the moment he did, I looked away, biting my lip and fighting tears.

I put my hands on his, and he relaxed his grip, letting the cheeks go back to their natural position hiding his damaged passage.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered through the tears I wasn’t even fighting anymore. I remembered back to that horrific moment in the cellar of that cabin, when that vile man told me that he’d raped Spencer with a knife. I didn’t want to believe it; hell I didn’t even want to think about it. But it was true. It was all true.

“It’s mostly healed up.” Spencer’s voice was muffled from the pillow in his face.

I pulled his sweatpants back up, and positioned myself beside him so he could look at me from where he lay.

“Spencer.” He refused to open his eyes to look at me, so I said his name again, “Spencer Reid, look at me.”

He finally did; he looked embarrassed, exposed, and hurt.

“You’re beautiful.” I told him sincerely. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. And no one can take that away from you, baby boy. You’ll always be beautiful.”

Spencer’s eyes were full of tears, and they streamed down his cheeks and onto the pillow.

“But…” He said with a whimper. “We might never be able to have sex. I talked to a doctor about it and he said I can’t have sex or else I’ll have… incontinency issues.” His face was already red from the crying, but I could till tell he was blushing.

“Hey, don’t be sorry on my account, okay? I’ve been more than happy with how things are going right now. How about you? Are you happy?”

Spencer sniffled, and it was then he decided to sit up. We sat up together on the bed, sitting close enough that we were almost kissing.

“I’ve been very happy, Morgan. You’ve made me so happy. I don’t deserve you. You’ve been so understanding and loving… I love you, you know that, right?”

“I know that. And I love you. Now no more tears, alright? I’ve told you before; I don’t need sex to be happy. I just need you.”

“And I need _you_.” Spencer looked as though he was about to kiss me.

“Well you have me.” I closed the gap between us, and we shared a slow kiss. It was so wonderfully sweet it made us both smile despite our tears.

 

That was the day I knew.

I knew that I’d found the one – or rather the _two_ – who I would share the rest of my life with. I was hooked for life.

I was head-over-heels and deeply in love with my two Spencers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thank you to my loyal readers who stuck with this story. If you want more fun and sexy stories check out my other works, particularly The Empty Heart, which is my best work, in my opinion. Peace, love, and gay sex, ~RudexAndxNotxGinger


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